TAE-NIGATWMXT 
VS  PROAIJE 


'VARICKj  VANARDY> 


JJ 

I 


CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  AlW 


THE 
NIGHT  WIND'S  PROMISE 


BY 

VARRICK  VANARDY 


AUTHOR  OF 

"ALIAS  THE  NIGHT  WIND" 
"THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NIGHT  WIND" 

ETC. 


M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  COMPANY 

CHICAGO  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1914.  BY 
THE  FRANK  A.  MUNSEY  CO, 


COPYRIGHT,  1914,  BY 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


The  Night  Wind's  Promise 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  THE  BEGINNING  OF  A  FELONY 

II.  THE  PLOTTING  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON 

III.  THE  INSIDE  OF  AN  ENVELOPE  . 

IV.  THE  VALUE  OF  Two  GOLD  PIECES  . 
V.  THE  KNIFE-THROWER 

VI.  CHILTON'S  UNSPEAKABLE  CLEVERNESS 

VII.  THE  OTHER  MAN  FROM  MEXICO  . 

VIII.  THE  MAKING  OF  A  MAN 

IX.  ROLLING  A  CIGARETTE 

X.  SOME  OF  RUSHTON'S  "DOPE"  . 

XI.  TOM  CLANCY'S  FOOL  REUARK 

XII.  THE  SERPENT — AND  LADY  KATE    . 

XIII.  Two  CAN  PLAY  AT  THE  SAME  GAME 

XIV.  SHE  CAME  FROM  OLD  KENTUCKY  . 
XV.  AN  IMPORTANT  SNAPSHOT 

XVI.  THE  PICTURE  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON 

XVII.  THE  MESSAGE  FROM  MEXICO  . 

XVIII.  LADY  KATE'S  PERIL 

XIX.  AN  ELEMENTAL  PUZZLE  . 

XX.  THE  SWEETEST  STORY  EVER  TOLD  . 

XXI.  AGAIN  THAT  CHILTON  PICTURE 

XXII.  AN  EXCHANGE  OF  WARNINGS 

XXIII.  BINTGHAM  HARVARD'S  QUIET  WAY 

XXIV.  A  LEOPARD — AND  His  SPOTS  . 


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2133487 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAO1 

XXV.  THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  BENTON  KEESE      .        .  198 

XXVI.  WHEN  IT  WAS  BETTY'S  MOVE      .        .        .  203 

XXVII.  WITH  THE  PACK  IN  FULL  CRY    .        .        .  213 

XXVIII.     GHOST  HOUSE 222 

XXIX.  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  BENTON  KEESE  .        .        .  231 

XXX.     APPROACHING  A  CRISIS 237 

XXXI.    AN  INTERCEPTED  BLOW 245 

XXXII.  THE  TOUCH  OF  THE  NIGHT  WIND       .        .251 

XXXIII.  WHEN  A  MAN  LIES 257 

XXXIV.  WHEN  KEESE  PUT  UP  A  BLUFF    .        .        .263 
XXXV.  THE  MASK  Is  TORN  AWAY  .        ...  269 

XXXVI.  A  HOLD-UP  AT  THE  RED  SCHOOLHOUSE  .        .  278 

XXXVII.  THE  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  KEESE      .        .        .287 

XXXVIII.  WHAT  BECAME  OF  BETTY      .       .       .        .291 

XXXIX.  THE  COURAGE  OF  LADY  KATE  .       .       .        .297 

XL.  IN  PURSUIT  OF  THE  GRAY  CAR      .        .        .  305 

XLI.  THE  NIGHT  WIND'S  PROMISE  .        .       .       .311 

XLII.     SUPPLYING  THE  PROOFS 3^5 


THE    NIGHT    WIND'S 
PROMISE 

CHAPTER   I 

THE    BEGINNING  OF   A    FELONY 

When  Eulogio  Llorente,  photographer,  having  his 
studio  in  the  calle  Plateros  Secundo,  in  the  city  of 
Mexico,  posed  Anderson  Van  Cleve,  the  American 
contractor,  mine-owner  and  speculator,  for  his  pic- 
ture that  bright  September  day,  and  imparted  cer- 
tain apparently  unimportant  information  to  the  man 
who  accompanied  Van  Cleve,  he  little  thought  that 
he  was  assisting  in  the  commission  of  a  crime  that 
was  soon  thereafter  to  be  enacted  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  four  thousand  miles  away.  Yet  it  was 
so.  Let  the  fact  of  it  and  the  circumstances  sur- 
rounding it  be  a  warning  to  all  who  read  these 
words  against  the  giving  of  unnecessary  profes- 
sional information  to  chance  acquaintances,  no  mat- 
ter how  well  recommended  or  in  whose  company 
they  may  happen  to  be. 

The  circumstance  happened  in  this  way: 
Two  hours  before  the  pictures  were  taken,  Van 
Cleve,  seated  in  his  sumptuous  office  in  the  calle 
Gante,  a  few  doors  in  from  the  calle  San  Francisco, 

5 


6          THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

near  the  Plazuela  de  Guardiola,  turned  quickly  in 
his  swivel-chair  when  the  door  opened. 

"Hello,  Chilton !"  he  exclaimed  cordially,  getting 
upon  his  feet  and  extending  his  hand  to  a  tall, 
bearded,  sun-and-wind-burned  man  of  little  more 
than  half  his  own  age,  who  came  breezily  and  briskly 
forward  and  grasped  the  proffered  hand  of  his  em- 
ployer. 

"You  are  on  time,  I  see,"  Van  Cleve  went  on 
genially.  "That  is  your  long  suit,  Chilton.  Sit 
down.  Help  yourself  to  a  cigar.  I  have  got  a  lot 
to  say  to  you.  Otherwise  I  would  not  have  brought 
you  in  from  Guerrero  in  such  haste.  But,  first,  how 
are  my  affairs  going  forward  in  Guerrero  ?" 

"Badly,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  was  the  reply.  "The 
work  is  at  a  standstill  everywhere.  The  peons 
won't  work.  They  sneak  away  or  boldly  walk  out, 
by  twos  and  tens  and  scores,  to  join  their  fortunes 
with  the  Federals,  or  the  Constitutionalists,  or  the 
Zapatistas — it  makes  mighty  small  difference  to 
them  which  so  long  as  they  feel  assured  of  getting 
paid.  But  it  leaves  us  in  the  hole  just  the  same." 

Van  Geve  nodded  understandingly.  He  was  a 
tall,  spare  man,  smooth-shaved,  past  sixty,  rather 
handsome  and  distinguished-looking  for  one  of  his 
years,  and  with  scarcely  a  gray  hair  to  show  among 
the  almost  black  ones  that  crowned  his  fine  head. 
He  was  dressed  conventionally  and  immaculately ;  a 
polished  silk  hat  rested  upon  the  top  of  the  desk  at 
which  he  reseated  himself  after  shaking  hands  with 
his  superintendent  and  general  manager. 

Holbrook  Chilton,  in  contrast,  wore  the  charo 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  A   FELONY        Y 

costume  of  the  Guerrero  mountaineer,  save  for  the 
American-made,  laced,  civil-engineer's  boots,  hob- 
nailed and  effective  for  use  among  the  mountains. 
He  made  a  picturesque  figure  when  he  came  into  the 
room  attired  in  the  tight-fitting  leather  trousers,  dec- 
orated with  silver  coins  down  each  outer  seam,  be- 
ginning at  the  waist  with  pesos,  of  which  there  were 
several,  and  growing  smaller  in  groups  of  threes 
until  they  disappeared  beneath  his  boot-tops  in 
reales  and  medios.  And  his  huge  Mexican  som- 
brero that  he  tossed  to  the  top  of  the  desk  beside 
the  silk  hat  of  his  employer  was  the  real  thing,  and 
could  not  have  cost  less  than  sixty  Mexican  pesos. 

One  might  well  have  mistaken  him  for  a  native 
of  the  Guerrean  mountains.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  the  skin  of  a  white  man  could  be  tanned  to  such 
a  deep  brown,  even  by  the  out-of-door  life  that 
Chilton  had  been  living  during  the  two  and  a  half 
years  he  had  been  Anderson  Van  Cleve's  general 
manager.  And,  as  proved  to  be  the  case  later  on, 
the  sun  and  wind  and  exposure  to  the  elements  had 
not  done  all  of  it.  Art,  dexterously  applied,  had 
been  called  upon  to  aid  in  the  making  of  that  leath- 
ery-brown complexion. 

He  was  thirty-five,  and  he  looked  fifty-five  in 
some  ways ;  and  yet  if  he  had  told  you  that  he  was 
fifty-five  you  would  have  doubted  it.  If  you  had 
sought  to  describe  him  to  another  you  would  have 
said  that  he  was  either  a  very  old-looking  young 
man  or  an  equally  young-looking  old  man.  All  of 
us  have  seen  and  known  such  characters. 

As  the  two  men  were  seated  facing  each  other 


8          THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Van  Cleve  appeared  scarcely  older  than  his  e'm- 
ployee,  save  for  the  expression  of  the  eyes  and  some 
shallow  wrinkles  here  and  there  which  age  inevita- 
bly bestows. 

"Bad,  eh  ?"  Van  Cleve  responded  without  a  pause 
and  nodded  his  head  again.  "I  know  it,"  he  went 
on.  "It  was  bad  enough  very  soon  after  Don  Por- 
firio,  of  la  mano  dura,  left  the  country;  it  has  been 
growing  worse  ever  since.  It  is  about  the  limit; 
now,  Chilton." 

"It  sure  is,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  the  manager  replied 
with  emphasis. 

"That  is  why  I  sent  for  you  to  come  in,"  the 
employer  added. 

Chilton  nodded  his  head  without  replying. 

"I  have  decided  to  get  out  of  the  country,"  Van 
Cleve  continued  after  a  short  pause.  "I  am  going 
to  fly  the  coop,  Chilton.  America — little  old  New 
York,  where  I  was  born  and  where  I  lived  until  I 
was  thirty-five — is  good  enough  for  me.  I  haven't 
been  back  there  but  twice  in  all  that  time  since 
then." 

"If  you  leave  Mexico  now,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  the 
act  will  entail  great  sacrifices  of  money  and  prop- 
erty, will  it  not?"  Chilton  asked  tritely. 

"Naturally;  more  as  to  property  than  as  to  cash, 
however,"  was  the  reply.  "For  the  last  three  years 
or  more  I  have  been  sending  all  the  money  I  could 
spare  from  my  undertakings  here  out  of  the  coun- 
try." 

"Indeed  ?"  said  Chilton,  with  a  rising  inflection. 

Van  Cleve  nodded  sagely. 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  A   FELONY        9 

"I  have  quite  a  substantial  balance  to  my  credit 
in  the  Centropolis  Bank  in  New  York,"  he  said 
retrospectively ;  "quite  a  substantial  balance.  I  have 
been  sending  large  sums  there  as  rapidly  as  I  could 
do  so.  The  president  of  that  bank  is  an  old  friend 
of  mine.  We  were  boys  together,  schoolmates,  and 
all  that.  Later,  we  were  associated  more  or  less 
intimately  in  business  affairs.  He  went  into  his 
father's  bank,  and  when  the  old  man  died  succeeded 
him.  I  entered  a  broker's  office  in  the  'Street.' 
Then,  at  thirty-five,  I  pulled  up  stakes  and  came 
here.  I  haven't  seen  Sterling  Chester  but  twice  in 
thirty  years,  and  the  last  time  was  ten  years  ago." 

"Who?" 

"Chester — Sterling  Chester,  the  president  of  the 
Centropolis  Bank  that  I  just  now  mentioned.  Or 
rather  he  was  the  president  of  it  until  very  recently. 
The  last  report  I  received,  which  the  bank  annually 
sends  out  to  its  depositors,  stated  that  Bingham 
Harvard  had  succeeded  to  the  presidency  and  that 
Chester  had  retired." 

Chilton  coughed  spasmodically.  He  explained 
after  a  moment  that  the  smoke  from  his  cigar  had 
strangled  him  when  he  inhaled  it. 

"I  suppose,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  that  you  are  well 
acquainted  with  him  also,  this — er — Bingham  Har- 
vard ?"  he  inquired. 

"No.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  not,"  the  con- 
tractor-miner replied.  "I  did  not  see  him  the  last 
time  I  was  back,  ten  years  ago,  although  I  heard 
enough  about  him.  Chester  is  very  fond  of  him. 
He  is  an  adopted  son." 


10        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"Then — you  have  never  seen  him  ?  He  has  never 
seen  you,  Mr.  Van  Qeve?" 

"Oh,  yes !  I  saw  him  when  I  went  back  the  first 
time.  But  that  was  more  than  twenty  years  ago. 
Bingham  Harvard  was  only  a  child  then." 

"I  see." 

Chilton  spoke  half  to  his  employer,  half  to  him- 
self, to  judge  by  his  manner  and  tone.  He  spoke 
as  if  he  were  weighing  some  possibilities  that  had 
occurred  to  him. 

"Of  course  there  are  many  others  in  the  city  who 
could  readily  identify  you?"  he  inquired. 

"Eh — what?  I  don't  know  about  that,  Chilton. 
Almost  all  of  my  old  friends  and  acquainances  in 
New  York  are  dead,  or  have  gone  to  other  parts  of 
the  world,  the  same  as  I  have.  My  best  friend, 
next  to  Chester,  died  three  or  four  years  ago." 

"Who  was  that?" 

"His  name  was  Brian  Clancy.  He  had  a  son, 
Tom,  who  succeeded  him  in  business.  But  I  have 
not  seen  him  since  he  was  five  years  old,  although 
he  has  transacted  some  business  for  me  lately.  But 
he  wouldn't  remember  me.  But,  good  heavens !  I 
won't  have  any  trouble  about  the  identification, 
Chilton.  There  is  my  signature  for  one  thing.  For 
another,  there  is  my  letter-file.  It  contains  carbon 
copies  of  every  letter  I  have  sent  to  Chester  and  of 
every  transaction  I  have  had  with  his  bank.  I  shall 
take  all  of  those  letters  with  me,  of  course.  They 
recite  the  amounts  I  have  sent  to  the  bank  from 
time  to  time,  the  dates  when  they  were  sent,  and  all 
that." 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  A   FELONY       11 

"Still,  Mr.  Van  Cleve By  the  way,  when  do 

you  propose  to  start?" 

"Within  the  week.  To-day  is  Monday.  I  shall 
leave  Mexico  City  by  or  before  Saturday." 

"Might  I  make  a  suggestion — er — relative  to  your 
proper  identification  when  you  do  arrive  in  New 
York?"  Chilton  asked  tentatively. 

"Certainly.    What  is  it?" 

"More  than  likely  you  will  regard  it  as  an  en- 
tirely unnecessary  proceeding,  but  certainly  it  can 
do  no  harm;  and  it  might  turn  out  to  your  advan- 
tage, Mr.  Van  Cleve." 

"Well,  let's  hear  what  it  is." 

"Just  a  matter  of  precaution  and — er — prepara- 
tion. Go  to  a  photographer  and  have  some  pictures 
made  of  yourself.  Enclose  one  or  two  of  them 
with  the  letter  you  will  write  to  the  new  president  of 
the  Centropolis  Bank,  informing  him  of  your  ex- 
pected arrival  there.  Retain  copies  of  the  pictures 
you  send  in  the  letter  and  carry  them  with  you  when 
you  leave  here. 

"Have  them  with  you,  as  well  as  the  letters  you 
have  mentioned,  when  you  present  yourself  at  the 
bank.  It  is  only  a  suggestion,  but  you  may  find 
it  advantageous  to  be  well  prepared.  New  York 
bankers  are  sticklers  for  identifications." 

"It's  a  good  idea,  Chilton.  I'll  do  it.  Come  along 
with  me.  I'll  attend  to  it  at  once.  Do  you  know 
of  a  photographer  anywhere  near  here?" 

"There  is  one  on  the  Second  Plateros,  two 
squares  down,  whose  sign  I  have  seen  frequently. 


12        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Llorente  is  his  name,  I  think.     Shall  we  go  there 
—now?" 

"Yes.    There  is  no  time  like  the  present,  Chilton." 

Eulogio  Llorente  received  the  two  men  effusively. 
Business  had  been  miserably  dull  with  him  for  many 
months.  He  was  glad  of  a  customer,  and  par- 
ticularly of  one  so  well  known  and  respected  in  the 
city  of  Mexico  as  the  Seiior  Van  Cleve. 

Several  negatives  were  exposed,  front  face,  pro- 
file, quarter-view,  et  cetera.  Mr.  Van  Cleve  was 
told  that  the  proofs  would  be  ready  for  his  inspec- 
tion the  following  morning,  and  he  promised  to  send 
for  them.  Then  he  turned  to  Chilton  as  they  were 
about  to  go  out. 

"Why  don't  you  have  your  picture  taken,  too, 
now  that  we  are  here?"  he  asked  smilingly. 

"I?  Oh,  no!"  Chilton  exclaimed  in  mock  dis- 
may. "Looking  as  I  do  now?  Not  on  your  life! 
It's  as  much  as  I  can  stand  to  look  at  myself  in  a 
mirror  when  I  have  to.  But  a  photograph?  To 
perpetuate  this  travesty  of  myself?  No,  I  thank 
you!" 

"But,  really,  Chilton,  you  are  quite  picturesque 
in  that  charo  costume." 

"Huh !  Do  you  suppose  I'd  wear  it  if  it  were  not 
for  the  impression  it  makes  upon  the  peons  I  have 
to  boss?  That  reminds  me:  I'm  out  of  a  job,  I 
suppose." 

"I  am  afraid  so,  Chilton."  They  were  on  the 
street  again.  "It  is  rather  short  notice,  isn't  it? 
Come  to  me  to-morrow  morning  early  and  I'll  settle 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  A   FELONY  ,    13 

up  with  you — and  I  will  add  three  months'  salary  to 
your  account  because  of  the  short  notice." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.  Shall  I  stop  at 
Llorente's  on  my  way,  and  bring  the  proofs  to 
you?" 

"Yes;  I  wish  you  would." 

They  parted  at  the  corner  of  Collegio  Viego. 
Chilton  remained  standing  where  his  employer  left 
him  for  several  moments.  Then,  turning  abruptly, 
he  sought  a  near-by  store  that  dealt  in  all  sorts  of 
photographic  supplies,  where  he  parted  with  very 
nearly  all  the  cash  he  possessed,  exchanging  it  for 
the  paraphernalia  he  required  to  carry  out  his  plans. 
He  was  quite  heavily  laden  when  he  came  out  again 
and  sought  the  rooms  where  he  lived  when  he  was 
in  the  city — in  the  calle  San  Felipi  Neri.  But  there 
was  a  smug  smile  of  satisfaction  in  his  countenance, 
nevertheless.  Chilton  had  succeeded  in  purchasing 
the  very  things  he  wanted. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  PLOTTING  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON 

An  Irishman  once  explained  that  to  make  a  can- 
non you  take  a  hole  and  surround  it  with  iron. 
In  the  city  of  Mexico  residences  are  built  in  much 
the  same  way;  they  select  a  hole  and  build  a  house 
around  it.  There  is  one  wide  entrance  from  the 
street,  big  enough  for  horses  and  carriages  to  pass 
through.  This  leads  into  a  patio,  or  court,  from 
which,  after  mounting  three  or  four  steps  to  a  nar- 
row balcony  which  surrounds  it,  entrance  is  obtained 
to  the  various  rooms.  If  the  house  is  two  stories 
high — they  are  rarely  more  than  that — the  stairs 
to  the  second  one  are  nearly  always  from  the  bal- 
cony in  the  patio. 

The  house  in  San  Felipi  Neri  Street,  where  Chil- 
ton  had  his  two  rooms  that  fronted  on  the  thorough- 
fare, was  two  stories  high.  His  rooms  were  in  the 
upper  story.  It  was  there  that  he  took  the  sup- 
plies he  had  purchased  immediately  after  he  parted 
with  Van  Cleve.  Those  supplies,  when  he  had  re- 
lieved himself  of  the  burden  of  them,  proved  to 
consist  of  a  very  excellent  camera,  capable  of  pro- 
ducing four-and-a-half  by  five-and-a-half  pictures; 
a  tripod,  all  the  paraphernalia  and  ingredients  neces- 
sary for  flash-lights,  some  carefully  selected  plates — 
and,  in  fact,  everything  that  was  necessary  to  carry 
out  the  designs  that  the  schemer  had  in  mind. 

14 


PLOTTING  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON      15 

And  it  was  an  evidence  of  Chilton's  quick  wit 
and  resourcefulness,  of  his  ingenuity  and  his  dar- 
ing, that  the  present  "scheme"  had  not  occurred  to 
him  even  remotely  until  during  that  conversation  be- 
tween him  and  his  employer  at  the  latter's  office  in 
calle  Gante.  In  fact,  not  until  the  question  of  proper 
identification  when  Van  Cleve  should  arrive  in  New 
York  City  came  up.  Then,  with  the  brilliancy  of 
one  of  the  flash-lights  he  had  just  purchased,  the 
idea  took  possession  of  him,  and  he  did  not  lack 
anything  of  the  necessary  effrontery  to  carry  it  out, 
once  it  had  taken  tangible  form  in  his  mind.  Nor 
did  he  lose  any  time  after  he  had  locked  himself  in- 
side the  larger  of  his  two  rooms  in  San  Felipi  Neri 
Street. 

Sheets  taken  from  a  bureau  drawer,  tacked 
against  the  wall,  created  a  background.  The  crex 
rug  on  the  floor  was  sufficiently  like  a  studio  in- 
terior. The  furniture  in  the  room  was  carefully 
removed  from  the  vision  of  the  camera.  One  of 
his  purchases  was  a  sixteen-foot  rubber  tube,  with 
a  bulb  at  the  end,  for  working  the  shutter,  and 
that  he  laid  along  the  floor  from  the  camera  and 
tripod  to  the  point  at  which  he  intended  to  stand. 
Qose  beside  the  tripod  he  placed  a  small  table,  and 
upon  that  he  arranged  his  flash-light,  with  which 
he  connected  a  short  fuse  that  would  consume  ap- 
proximately half  a  minute  in  burning. 

When  everything  was  arranged  to  his  entire  sat- 
isfaction— the  preparations  consumed  nearly  an 
hour — he  took  his  stand  in  front  of  the  lens  at  the 
proper  distance  from  it  and  directly  facing  the 


16        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

camera's  eye.  Chilton  wore  his  sombrero,  pushed 
slightly  backward  on  his  head,  and  his  filled  cart- 
ridge-belt and  holsters ;  and  a  Mexican  saddle  rested 
upon  the  floor  beside  him.  This  last  was  included 
in  the  picture  for  the  sake  of  offsetting  any  possi- 
bility that  the  rubber  tube  that  connected  with  the 
shutter  might  appear  upon  the  negative.  He  stood 
with  his  hands  behind  him,  and  one  of  them  grasped 
the  bulb  of  the  tube.  He  watched  the  burning  fuse 
narrowly,  and  at  precisely  the  instant  when  the 
flash  came  he  squeezed  it.  That  process,  with  ex- 
actly the  same  view  of  himself,  he  repeated  twice. 
Then  he  made  three  more  exposures  of  himself  in 
the  same  manner,  with  the  difference  that  he  re- 
moved the  sombrero  and  turned  his  left  profile 
toward  the  camera's  eye. 

Six  exposures  in  all  he  made,  and  he  had  not  a 
doubt  that  from  the  lot  there  would  certainly  be 
one  out  of  each  three  that  would  fulfill  his  wishes ; 
and  because  he  had  found  opportunity  to  observe 
and  measure  while  he  was  at  the  studio  of  Llorente 
that  afternoon  he  knew  that  they  would  be  of  the 
requisite  dimensions. 

Simultaneously  with  the  ignition  of  that  last 
flash-light  Chilton  plainly  heard  the  sound  of  car- 
riage-wheels and  hoof -beats  on  the  pavement  out- 
side, and  they  stopped  directly  under  his  window. 
An  inner  sense — intuitiveness  possibly — warned 
him  instantly  of  the  bare  possibility  that  his  em- 
ployer, Van  Cleve,  might  be  seeking  him  again, 
and,  without  pausing  to  readjust  anything  in  the 
room,  he  passed  quickly  outside  of  it  upon  the  bal- 


PLOTTING  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON     17 

cony  that  surrounded  the  patio,  closing  and  locking 
the  door  after  him  and  dropping  the  key  into  his 
pocket. 

In  all  of  the  older  Mexico  City  houses  the  rooms 
do  not  connect  from  one  to  another ;  access  between 
them  is  had  only  by  passing  to  the  balcony,  and 
thence  to  the  room  adjoining,  as  Chilton  did  then. 
He  stepped  quickly  into  the  other  one  of  his  two 
rooms,  threw  his  sombrero  upon  the  bed,  dropped 
his  cartridge-belt  and  the  two  "forty- fours"  be- 
side it,  seated  himself  upon  a  chair  that  faced  the 
window — night  had  fallen  before  he  began  his  flash- 
light experiences — and  was  busily  engaged  in  roll- 
ing himself  a  cigarette  when  a  quick,  distinct  rap- 
ping sounded  against  the  panel  of  the  door. 

"Venga  aca!"  he  called  out  without  turning  his 
head,  as  if  he  supposed  the  summons  was  made 
by  the  mozo  de  la  casa,  or  the  portero.  He  twisted 
the  cigarette  into  proper  shape  and  applied  a  cerillo 
to  it  just  as  the  door  opened  and  the  voice  of  Van 
Cleve  greeted  him. 

Chilton  sprang  instantly  to  his  feet  with  a  well- 
simulated  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"Hello !"  he  said  in  feigned  astonishment.  "You. 
Mr.  Van  Cleve?  I  was  just  wondering  what  to 
do  with  myself  to-night.  I  am  mighty  glad  you 
looked  me  up.  Did  you  forget  something  that  you 
wished  to  say  to  me  this  afternoon?" 

"No.  I  came  around  to  ask  you  to  go  to  dinner 
with  me,  if  you  hadn't  already  gone — which,  I  per- 
ceive, you  have  not,"  was  the  smiling  response. 
"Will  you  come?" 


18        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Sure." 

"We  will  go  to  the  Concordia.  I  don't  want 
anybody  to  get  the  idea  that  I  am  contemplating  a 
sudden  departure  from  the  country.  See  ?" 

Chilton  nodded. 

"I  have  got  some  maps  and  blue-prints  in  my 
pocket,"  Van  Cleve  continued.  "We  will  pretend 
to  be  examining  them  and  discussing  them  while  we 
wait  for  our  order  to  be  filled  at  the  restaurant, 
Chilton.  That  will  reassure  anybody  who  happens 
to  be  watching  us;  for  I  suppose  you  know  that 
all  Americans  are  observed  rather  closely  just  now, 
particularly  those  who  might  take  it  into  their  heads 
to  leave  the  country  suddenly  and  carry  a  wad  of 
money  away  with  them.  So,  come  along.  Oh,  by 
the  way " 

"Yes?"  Chilton  replied. 

"That  next  room  there  is  yours  also,  isn't  it?" 
and  he  jerked  his  head  toward  the  room  from 
whence  the  flash-light  had  shown  for  an  instant  as 
he  stepped  down  from  his  carriage. 

"It  used  to  be,"  the  manager  replied  indifferently. 
"I  gave  it  up  before  I  went  away  the  last  time. 
There  was  no  use  in  keeping  two  rooms,  you  know." 

"Certainly  not.    Who  occupies  it  now?" 

"I  really  don't  know,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.  A  young 
Mexican  civil  engineer  came  to  look  at  it  the  day 
I  gave  it  up,  but  I  don't  know  whether  he  took  it 
or  not.  Why?" 

"Oh,  nothing.  There  was  a  flash  of  light  through 
the  window  just  as  I  got  down  from  my  carriage 
at  the  door.  I  thought  it  was  one  of  your  rooms, 


PLOTTING  OF  HOLBROOK  CH1LTON      19 

and  when  I  came  in  here  and  discovered  you  rolling 
a  cigarette  I  thought  the  circumstance  an  odd  one. 

"Perhaps  the  young  engineer  is  making  blue- 
prints," Chilton  suggested,  donning  his  sombrero. 
And  Van  Cleve  was  entirely  satisfied  with  that  ex- 
planation, although  it  was  destined  that  within  a 
few  weeks  the  circumstance  was  to  be  recalled  to 
his  mind  very  vividly  indeed — after  his  arrival  in 
the  city  of  New  York. 

They  drove  together  to  the  Concordia  Restau- 
rant. They  dined  together  sumptuously.  They 
pored  over  maps  and  blue-prints  while  waiting  for 
their  order  to  be  filled.  They  came  away  from  the 
restaurant  together  after  eleven  o'clock,  having 
spent  nearly  three  hours  at  table,  and  they  parted  at 
the  door,  Chilton  having  insisted  upon  walking 
home. 

It  was  nearly  dawn  before  he  sought  any  rest, 
for  with  blankets  and  many  large  sheets  of  orange- 
colored  paper  he  had  to  manufacture  a  "dark-room" 
in  which  to  develop  the  negatives  he  had  made, 
and  it  came  out  that  one  negative  out  of  each 
three  he  had  taken  was  very  nearly  perfect.  Thus 
far  Chilton's  schemes  had  prospered.  There  re- 
mained the  matter  of  a  very  small  and  easy  theft 
to  accomplish  and  some  deft  sleight-of-hand  to  be 
performed  and  a  hint  dropped  wisely  and  well,  and 
in  the  right  place,  for  the  purpose  of  detaining 
Van  Cleve  in  the  City  of  Mexico  longer  than  he 
intended  and  all  would  be  well.  Van  Cleve,  how- 
ever, was  not  one  to  be  easily  detained  anywhere 
against  his  will. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  INSIDE  OF  AN  ENVELOPE 

Chilton  walked  into  the  photographic  studio  of 
Eulogio  Llorente  shortly  after  nine  o'clock  the  fol- 
lowing morning  and  found  that  the  proofs  of  Van 
Cleve's  pictures  were  ready  for  inspection.  He 
examined  them  attentively.  Then  he  made  a  re- 
quest of  the  photographer  to  see  two  of  the  nega- 
tives, and  while  Llorente  was  absent  from  the  room 
to  procure  them  Chilton  deftly  pulled  out  a  drawer 
from  a  cabinet  and  extracted  therefrom  several 
blank,  cabinet-size  cards,  which  bore  Llorente's 
name  and  address  in  letters  of  gold  and  which 
were  used  for  mounting  photographs  that  he  had 
made.  These  Chilton  quickly  concealed  about  his 
person,  and  was  quietly  rolling  a  cigarette,  over  by 
one  of  the  windows,  when  Llorente  returned  with 
the  negatives. 

Within  a  few  moments  thereafter  Chilton  arrived 
at  Van  Cleve's  office  and  the  two  men  put  their 
heads  together  in  an  inspection  of  the  photographic 
proofs,  and  it  was  the  general  manager  who  finally 
made  the  selection  for  his  employer.  That  being 
done,  Chilton  took  the  selected  proofs  back  to 
Llorente,  after  assuring  Van  Cleve  of  two  things : 
That  the  mounted  photographs  would  be  ready  for 
him  by  two  o'clock  of  the  following  day  (there  is 

20 


THE  INSIDE  OF  AN  ENVELOPE        21 

always  bright  sunshine  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  so 
one  does  not  have  to  consider  a  possible  cloudy 
day),  and  that  he  would  return  to  Van  Cleve's  of- 
fice himself  late  that  afternoon  to  arrange  the  set- 
tlement of  their  mutual  affairs  and  to  prepare  for 
Van  Cleve's  departure  from  Mexico. 

From  Llorente's  studio,  Chilton  sought  his  own 
rooms  in  calle  San  Felipi  Neri,  and  he  made  good 
use  of  the  bright  sunshine,  too.  It  is  sufficient  to 
say  that  the  product  of  his  efforts  was  entirely 
satisfactory  to  himself,  and  that  after  his  flash- 
light pictures  were  mounted  on  the  cards  he  had 
stolen  from  the  studio  it  is  doubtful  if  the  pho- 
tographer himself  could  have  sworn  that  they  were 
not  of  his  own  make. 

Later,  Chilton  kept  his  appointment  with  Van 
Cleve,  and  the  settlement  of  their  affairs  was  con- 
cluded. At  the  close  of  their  conference  Van  Cleve 
asked : 

"Why  don't  you  go  north  with  me,  Chilton  ?  I'll 
be  glad  if  you  will." 

But  Chilton  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I  shall  stay  here;  or,  rather, 
I  will  hike  back  to  the  mountains  of  Guerrero. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  North  that  calls  me,  and 
in  the  light  of  your  generosity  regarding  the  prop- 
erties there  is  much  to  keep  me  here." 

At  half  past  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
day  following — Wednesday1 — Chilton  carried  the 
mounted  photographs  of  Van  Cleve  to  the  office  in 
calle  Gante.  The  contractor-mine-owner  was  await- 
ing him  and  at  once  exhibited  a  letter  that  he  had 


22        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

dictated  and  signed.  It  was  addressed  to  Mr. 
Bingham  Harvard,  president  of  the  Centropolis 
Bank,  New  York  City,  and  we  will  quote  only  the 
closing  paragraph.  It  said: 

"If  all  goes  well,  and  I  am  not  delayed  by  un- 
foreseen circumstances,  I  will  present  myself  to 
you  at  the  Centropolis  Bank  on  Thursday,  or  pos- 
sibly Friday,  of  next  week,  shortly  after  noon.  I 
am  inclosing  with  this  letter  two  photographs  of  my- 
self that  were  taken  the  day  before  yesterday,  and 
they  are  very  good  likenesses,  so,  if  you  study  them, 
you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  me  the 
moment  we  meet. 

"It  is  twenty  years  or  more  since  I  last  saw 
you ;  you  were  a  small  boy  then.  But  I  heard  much 
about  you  on  the  occasion  of  my  last  trip  to  New 
York  ten  years  ago,  from  Mr.  Chester.  I  need  not 
say  that  he  spoke  of  you  with  great  affection.  But, 
it  has  occurred  to  me  that  Chester,  having  retired, 
according  to  the  last  report  I  received  from  the 
bank,  might  be  away  from  home,  or  something  of 
the  sort,  and,  therefore,  the  photographs  which  I 
inclose. 

"I  would  be  glad  if  young  Tom  Clancy,  the  son 
and  successor  of  another  old  friend,  could  manage 
to  be  present  at  the  bank  when  I  call.  I  have 
had  some  business  dealings  with  him,  by  letter,  as 
you  probably  know.  I  have  already  written  to 
him,  asking  that  he  meet  me  as  stated,  and  have 
also  requested  him  to  prepare  and  take  with  him  a 
statement  of  my  account  with  his  firm." 


THE  INSIDE  OF  AN  ENVELOPE        23 

Chilton  had  brought  with  him  from  Llorente's 
studio  one  of  the  latter's  cork-reenforced  envelopes, 
made  expressly  for  mailing  photographs,  and  he 
passed  the  envelope  to  Van  Cleve,  with  the  sugges- 
tion that  he  address  it  in  his  own  handwriting. 
Then,  while  Van  Cleve' s  back  was  turned,  while 
he  was  bending  over  the  envelope  he  was  address- 
ing, Chilton  took  two  of  his  own  pictures,  that  he 
had  made  himself,  from  one  of  his  pockets  and 
replaced  them  with  the  two  that  Van  Cleve  had 
selected  to  send  to  Bingham  Harvard.  The  two 
pictures  of  himself  he  placed  face  to  face,  with  Van 
Cleve's  letter  to  Harvard  between  them,  and  he 
snapped  two  rubber  bands,  lengthwise  and  cross- 
wise, around  them — and  the  instant  the  envelope 
was  addressed  and  blotted  he  reached  out  for  it, 
slipped  the  whole  arrangement  into  it,  and  sealed  it. 

Chilton  took  great  chances  in  that  act,  for  Van 
Cleve  might  naturally  have  desired  one  more  glance 
at  the  photographs  of  himself  that  he  was  sending 
away.  But  Van  Cleve  only  looked  on  smilingly, 
well  pleased  and  satisfied  and  with  no  suspicion 
whatever  that  there  had  been  an  exchange.  Never- 
theless, the  pictures  of  himself  which  he  supposed 
to  be  safely  enclosed  inside  of  the  envelope  ad- 
dressed to  New  York  were  at  that  moment  in  the 
inside  pocket  of  Chilton' s  charo  jacket,  and  the  pic- 
tures that  were  really  within  the  Llorente  envelope 
were  the  photographs  of  Holbrook  Chilton  that  he 
had  made  by  flash-light  Monday  evening. 

The  two  men  walked  to  the  city  postoffice  to- 
gether to  mail  them.  Afterward  they  sought  the 


24        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Concordia  again,  and.  while  seated  at  the  table  Chil- 
ton  remarked  quite  casually: 

"I  think,  our  business  together  being  concluded, 
that  I  will  hit  the  trail  for  Guerrero  in  the  morning, 
Mr.  Van  Cleve.  Particularly  as  I  want  to  take  a 
run  down  to  Puebla  first.  So,  when  we  part,  pres- 
ently, it  will  be  good-by." 

"I  had  hoped  that  you  would  wait  and  see  me 
off,"  Van  Cleve  replied ;  but  made  no  further  remon- 
strance, and  an  hour  later  the  two  parted  with  each 
other,  presumably  forever. 

Van  Cleve  went  to  his  home,  on  the  Passeo  de 
la  Re  forma.  Chilton  sought  a  neighborhood  that 
is  well  out  toward  the  shrine  of  Guadalupe  and  dis- 
appeared for  a  long  time  within  an  unsavory-look- 
ing saloon.  When  he  came  out  there  was  a  satis- 
fied smile  on  his  face,  and  he  seemed  well  pleased 
with  the  result  of  his  call.  Because  of  Chilton's 
visit  to  that  saloon  Van  Cleve' s  departure  from 
Mexico  was  quite  certain  to  be  delayed. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE   VALUE   OF    TWO    GOLD    PIECES 

The  visit  that  Holbrook  Chilton  made  to  the  sa- 
loon in  the  short  and  filthy  street  that  was  situated 
a  goodly  distance  between  the  Zocolo  and  the  Shrine 
of  Guadalupe,  called  the  calle  Amarillo  (which  is 
the  same  as  saying  Yellow  Street  in  English)  was 
not  without  its  definite  object,  and  in  some  meas- 
ure that  object,  despicable  as  it  was  in  motive, 
was  attained. 

The  saloon  was  in  a  mere  hovel,  built  of  adobe 
bricks  of  mud  baked  to  hardness  in  the  Mexican 
sun.  It  was  innocent  of  a  floor,  the  hard-trodden 
earth  of  tepetate  texture  and  formation  answered 
that  purpose.  Some  rough  tables  were  bestowed 
about  the  one  room  it  contained,  for  the  proprietor 
cooked  his  food  over  a  charcoal  fire  that  was  con- 
tained in  an  earthen  jar  in  one  corner  of  that  room, 
and  at  night  rolled  himself  in  a  gaudy  serape  and 
stretched  his  body  upon  a  woven  grass  petate  across 
the  doorway.  And  he  had  a  numerous  brood  that 
accommodated  themselves  in  like  manner. 

One  customer  alone  patronized  the  place  when 
Chilton  entered  it,  and  he  was  seated  at  a  table 
sipping  pulque  vie  jo  with  the  proprietor.  But  he 

25 


26        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

got  upon  his  feet  instantly  and  saluted — as  did  also 
the  other  man — when  Van  Cleve's  superintendent- 
manager  appeared.  Evidently  he  was  expected. 

"You  have  seen  the  cargador  de  la  esquina  I  sent 
to  find  you  ?"  Chilton  demanded  abruptly. 

"Si,  senor." 

Chilton  ostentatiously  withdrew  two  gold  pieces 
from  one  of  his  pockets  and  held  them  for  a  moment 
so  that  the  man  called  Pancho  could  see  them. 
They  were  American  five-dollar  coins,  but  they 
represented  twice  that  amount  in  Mexican  money 
and  looked  like  a  fortune  in  the  eyes  of  the  brutal- 
looking,  ragged  charo,  whose  gaze  literally  glittered 
at  sight  of  them. 

"These  are  yours,  amigo,  if  you  will  do  as  I  di- 
rect," he  said.  "I  will  give  them  to  you  now. 
Then,  when  the  thing  is  done,  there  are  two  more 
like  them  which  will  also  be  yours.  Well?" 

"They  are  mine  already,  senor"  was  the  quiet 
response. 

"Good.     I  supposed  as  much." 

(The  conversation  was,  of  course,  entirely  in 
Spanish.) 

"It  is  to  do — what,  senor?"  Pancho  asked  softly. 
"Somebody — a  man,  no? — is  in  the  way  of  the 
senor  and  is  to  be  removed?  Yes?  A  senorita 
has  attracted  the  senor' s  eye  and  is  to  be  carried  into 
the  mountains?  No?  Yes?  It  is  the  same  to 
Pancho.  It  is  done." 

"It  is  the  Senor  Van  Cleve,"  Chilton  replied 
shortly.  "You  know  him.  You  worked  for  him. 
He  caught  you  doing  ladrone's  work.  You  stole. 


VALUE  OF  TWO  GOLD  PIECES        27 

He  struck  you  and  sent  you  away.  You  hate  him. 
No?" 

"Si,  senor;  I  hate  him.  Bien?"  Pancho's  eyes 
glittered  fiercely  when  he  made  that  reply. 

Chilton  put  the  gold  pieces  upon  the  table  be- 
tween them.  Pancho  let  them  lie  nor  offered  yet  to 
take  them  up. 

"He  is  to  be  killed?"  he  asked  softly. 

"Yes." 

"When,  senor?  Where?"  There  was  no  hesita- 
tion in  the  question,  no  suggestion  of  negation. 

"When  you  will,  so  that  it  be  soon  enough." 

"Bien.     Tell  me  more,  seiior." 

"Van  Cleve  thinks  to  go  away  from  Mexico.  He 
must  not  go  away.  He  must  remain  here  and  be 
buried." 

"Estd  bien,  senor''  was  the  calm  reply,  which, 
being  translated,  means :  "It  is  well,  sir." 

"He  plans  to  go  away  by  Friday  or  Saturday — 
or  at  the  latest,  Monday.  He  must  not  go." 

"Senor  Van  Cleve  will  not  go  away  from  Mex- 
ico," Pancho  stated  immovably. 

"Do  you  know  where  and  how  to  find  him  so 
that  it  can  be  done,  Pancho?" 

"Si,  senor.  I  have  watched.  Some  day  it  should 
have  been  done  without  the  bestowal  of  these  coins 
— for  myself.  You  but  hasten  matters.  Bueno." 

"At  his  office  in  the  calle  Gante,  or  in  the  street 
at  night,  Pancho.  It  will  be  all  the  same  to  me. 
You  throw  the  knife  superbly,  and  see!  I  have 
brought  you  a  new  one,  just  purchased,  so  that 
when  it  is  found  in  his  body  and  plucked  from  it 


there  will  be  no  recognizing  it  as  your  property. 
Inteiende  ustedf" 

"Si,  senor;  y  mil  gracias,  tambien." 

"It  is  a  good  one,  Pancho.  I  have  seen  you 
throw  one  like  it  as  much  as  thirty  feet  and  put  the 
point  through  a  piece  of  paper  an  inch  square.  Can 
you  still  do  that?" 

"As  well  as  ever,  senor." 

"Do  you  need  further  instruction,  Pancho?" 

"No." 

"It  must  be  done  before  he  leaves  Mexico  City 
— I  do  not  care  when  nor  where  nor  how." 

"I  understand,  senor." 

"Remember,  he  may  start  away  next  Friday 
morning;  so  before  that,  if  possible." 

"I  have  not  forgotten.  Now,  senor,  what  of  the 
remaining  two  gold  pieces?  Does  the  senor  intend 
also  to  go  away?" 

"No.  Not  yet.  Not  for  weeks  to  come,"  Chilton 
lied  calmly.  "The  other  two  gold  pieces — we  will 
make  it  three — will  be  ready  for  you  as  soon  as  the 
work  is  done." 

"Esta  bien,  senor;  else "  The  pause  was 

significant. 

"Else  there  may  be  another  knife  of  the  same 
sort  reserved  for  me,  eh  ?  Oh,  I  know  you,  Pancho. 
When  have  I  failed  in  a  promise  to  you?" 

"Never,  senor." 

"Not  this  time,  either,"  Chilton  answered,  smil- 
ing, and  rose  from  the  table.  But  he  threw  a  silver 
dollar  upon  it  in  front  of  the  proprietor,  who  had 
listened  to  the  conversation  unmoved.  "Drink  that 


VALUE  OF  TWO  GOLD  PIECES        29 

up  to  my  good  health,"  he  said :  and  then,  dropping 
another  one  beside  it,  he  added :  "And  bestow  that 
one  upon  the  scnora  and  the  ninos." 

Then,  without  another  word  or  glance,  he  turned 
his  back  upon  them  and  went  out.  Chilton  being 
gone,  Pancho  bent  forward  half  across  the  table, 
somber-eyed. 

"You  heard,  Sus  ?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"Si.    I  heard." 

"Don  Hola"  (hVwas  the  name  by  which  he  spoke 
of  Chilton)  "lied  to  me." 

The  proprietor  of  the  cantina  nodded  compre- 
hendingly.  It  was  apparent  that  he  thought  so, 
too. 

"There  will  be  no  more  pieces  of  gold." 

"No." 

"He  will  go  away,  also." 

"Yes.    That  is  evident." 

"So  there  will  be  no  killing.  Why  should  there 
be?  Why  should  I  risk  Belem  and  the  bullets  of 
the  executioners?" 

"Why,  indeed?" 

"But — I  will  earn  these  two  gold  pieces  if  not 
the  others,  aniigo." 

"But  how,  then,  Pancho  ?" 

"Senor  Van  Cleve  shall  be  detained,  not  killed. 
He  may  go  away  Monday,  perhaps,  or  Tuesday  or 
afterward ;  but  not  Friday  or  Saturday.  So  will  I 
keep  my  faith.  But  if  Don  Hola  had  given  me  the 
four  pieces  it  would  have  been  better,  for  then  I 
would  have  done  as  he  desired.  I  would  have 
thrown  the  knife.  Look!" 


30        THE    NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

He  picked  up  the  knife  which  Chilton  had  left 
upon  the  table,  poised  it  for  an  instant  in  one  hand, 
and  said : 

"See!    The  letter  'O'  in  the  sign  over  the  bar." 

Then  he  threw  it  from  him,  and  exactly  in  the 
middle  of  that  letter  "O"  it  struck,  point  first,  and 
held  there,  deeply  imbedded,  quivering  like  a  live 
thing.  There  was  more  pulque  vie  jo  after  that; 
many  copas.  Some  tequila,  which  is  stronger  than 
absinthe  and  quite  as  deadly,  followed.  Other  men 
entered  the  place  and  were  invited  to  drink — but 
no  mention  was  made  again  of  the  visit  of  Chilton 
to  the  cantina.  And  the  knife  he  had  given  to 
Pancho  was  concealed  in  the  clothing  of  that  enter- 
prising person. 

So,  hours  later,  he  went  outside  and  betook  him- 
self to  the  plaza  of  the  Zocolo,  and  thence  to  the 
corner  of  San  Francisco  and  Gante  streets,  and 
again  thence  to  the  curb  opposite  the  windows  across 
the  street,  through  which  the  head  and  shoulders  of 
Anderson  Van  Cleve  could  be  seen  as  he  bent  over 
his  desk.  Pancho,  the  discharged  employee  and 
Holbrook  Chilton's  tool,  was  studying  the  ground 
and  making  ready  to  keep  faith  with  Chilton — as 
far  as  the  two  gold  pieces  would  go. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  KNIFE-THROWER 

Anderson  Van  Cleve,  when  he  had  finally  ar- 
ranged his  affairs  sufficiently  to  his  own  satisfac- 
tion so  that  he  was  prepared  to  leave  Mexico  never 
to  return  to  it,  strode  through  the  main  thorough- 
fare of  that  city  from  the  bronze  "caballito"  at  the 
entrance  to  the  Passeo  de  la  Re  forma  to  the  city 
palace  just  across  the  plaza  at  the  Zoloco,  looking 
in  for  a  moment  at  places  he  had  been  wont  to 
frequent  during  his  long  residence  there,  and  paus- 
ing at  times,  undecided  where  to  go  next.  For  he 
was  not  leaving  the  City  of  Mexico,  beautiful  in 
many  ways  then,  without  deep  regret.  He  had 
lived  there  too  long  a  time  for  that,  and  many  of 
the  ties  had  become  very  strong  indeed.  But  the 
prophetic  eyes  of  the  man  could  see,  he  believed,  far 
into  the  future. 

He  believed  that  the  tranquillity  of  the  moment 
was  only  on  the  surface  in  that  country;  that  be- 
neath it  a  volcano  of  strife  was  ready  to  burst 
into  eruption  at  any  moment,  and  that  he  would  be 
better,  far  better,  away  from  it.  Once  he  would 
have  elected  to  remain — but  that  was  when  he  was 
younger.  Now  the  years  were  beginning  to  sug- 
gest their  weight  to  his  energies,  and  he  knew  that 
it  was  better  to  go.  If  Porfirio  Diaz  had  remained, 
31 


32        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

he  would  have  stayed  also;  but — Diaz  was  gone. 
True,  Van  Cleve  sacrificed  much  in  making  such 
a  hurried  departure — a  fortune,  in  fact.  But,  he 
argued,  there  was  enough  besides  to  serve  him 
bountifully  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

The  Centropolis  Bank  was  not  the  only  one  in  the 
North  to  which  he  had  been  forwarding  funds  dur- 
ing the  latter  years  of  his  stay.  There  were  others, 
and  he  owned  property  in  various  places ;  he  had 
many  investments;  he  owned  U.  S.  government 
bonds  to  a  considerable  extent — and,  in  short,  he 
had  no  fears  for  the  future,  notwithstanding  his 
present  sacrifice. 

In  the  middle  of  the  Zocolo,  near  the  music- 
stand,  he  remained  for  a  long  time.  Night  had 
fallen,  although  it  was  still  early ;  but  lights  gleamed 
out  everywhere  when  he  turned  to  retrace  his  steps. 
He  stopped  for  a  moment  to  chat  with  a  friend 
in  front  of  the  Iturbide  Hotel.  He  looked  in  at  an 
office  at  the  Plazuela  de  Guardiola,  to  take  a  last 
glance  at  another  acquaintance — for  he  did  not 
mean  to  say  good-by  to  anybody.  It  was  a  part  of 
his  present  policy  to  tell  nobody  of  his  going  away. 

He  strode  onward  presently  into  the  Avenida 
Juarez,  and  thence  turned  into  the  Alameda,  where, 
being  a  bit  tired  by  his  long  walk,  he  sat  down  upon 
one  of  the  benches.  The  huge  trees  of  cypress 
would  have  rendered  it  intensely  dark  in  there  but 
for  the  somewhat  infrequent  arc-lights  that  were 
along  the  paths.  They  dispelled  a  part  of  the  gloom. 
Nevertheless,  just  where  he  had  seated  himself  the 
trees  hung  downward  all  around  him,  and  he  no- 


THE   KNIFE-THROWER  33 

ticed  that  few  people  were  in  sight — mostly  peons, 
or  cargadores.  The  Alameda  was  as  deserted  as 
it  ever  was.  He  was  quite  alone,  in  fact,  but  it 
suited  him  to  be  so. 

He  had  no  idea  that  he  would  experience  such 
regret  when  the  time  came  to  go  away.  He  was 
remembering  that  Mexico  had  been  his  home  for  a 
good  many  years.  It  was  Friday  night  then.  He 
was  prepared  to  leave  the  city  the  following  morn- 
ing. Nobody  would  suspect  his  real  destination,  for 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  making  frequent  excur- 
sions out  of  the  city  during  all  the  years  he  had 
been  there — and  he  had  taken  his  ticket  for  only  a 
part  of  the  way  to  the  border.  He  would  purchase 
another  when  it  was  required.  Holbrook  Chilton, 
he  supposed,  had  returned  to  Guerrero ;  to  the  prop- 
erties that  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  man  as  a  free 
gift — since  he  could  no  longer  develop  them.  At 
all  events,  Chilton  had  left  the  city. 

While  he  sat  there  on  the  bench,  a  charo — a 
mountaineer,  in  other  words — paused  in  passing, 
and  spoke  to  him  deferentially  in  Spanish. 

"You  remember  me,  senor?"  he  asked,  showing 
his  teeth. 

"Yes.  You  are  Pancho,  who  worked  for  me. 
What  do  you  want,  hombre?" 

"To  speak  to  you,  senor.  To  ask  that  you  will 
employ  me  again." 

"Never.  You  stole.  You  are  a  ladrone.  Go 
away." 

"But,  senor " 

"Well?" 


84        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"I  am  poor — very  poor.  I  have  no  money  to 
buy  food.  I  need  work;  and  I  will  be  honest." 

Had  Van  Cleve  but  known  it  and  consented  to 
employ  the  man  again,  Pancho  would  have  passed 
on,  and  nothing  would  have  happened  that  night. 
Such  was  Pancho's  intention,  for  he  believed  that 
the  work  of  his  former  employer  would  still  go 
ahead,  even  though  the  man  himself  should  de- 
part. And  Pancho  would  have  kept  the  two  gold 
pieces  and  still  not  have  kept  even  part  faith  with 
Chilton;  for  Pancho  was  wise,  and  had  watched 
Chilton,  and  he  knew  that  the  man  who  had  given 
the  gold  to  him  was  already  gone  from  Mexico. 
But  the  senor  said  no,  again,  with  emphasis.  Still, 
he  took  a  handful  of  silver  from  one  of  his  pock- 
ets and  gave  it  to  Pancho,  saying : 

"Take  this,  then,  and  buy  food.  But  I  cannot 
employ  you  again." 

"But  the  senor  will  need  me  while  he  is  gone 
away  from  Mexico,"  Pancho  said  placidly,  accept- 
ing the  money  nevertheless,  and  with  ten  thousand 
thanks — in  three  words. 

Van  Qeve  started  to  his  feet,  surprised.  How 
could  this  man  know  of  his  intended  departure? 
Nobody  but  Holbrook  Chilton  had  been  informed 
of  it. 

"Why  do  you  say  that  ?"  he  demanded  sharply. 

"Because  the  fact  is  known  to  me,  senor.  You 
go — to-morrow,  perhaps?  No?" 

Van  Cleve  was  impatient,  and  he  was  angry,  too. 
He  was  accustomed  to  handling  his  peons  and  charos 
roughly.  And  this  particular  one  he  disliked  in- 


THE   KNIFE-THROWER 


tensely.  So  he  did  the  natural  thing  to  do  under 
the  circumstances — the  thing  that  years  of  experi- 
ence with  such  men  in  that  country  had  forced  him 
to  do :  he  swept  his  right  hand  and  arm  around,  not 
exactly  in  a  blow,  but  in  something  very  like  one, 
and  it  would  have  fallen  upon  Pancho  and  shoved 
him  roughly  aside,  had  it  touched  him;  but  Pancho 
sprang  backward  out  of  its  reach.  And  then  he 
turned,  but  not  until  he  had  made  several  of  those 
agile  leaps  to  attain  a  greater  distance.  When  he 
did  turn,  something  gleamed  brightly  in  his  hand, 
and  Van  Cleve  knew  what  it  was,  and  exactly  what 
Pancho  intended  to  do  with  it.  He  knew,  more- 
over, that  he  could  not  dodge  the  thrown  knife  in 
time  to  avoid  it  when  it  should  be  cast  at  him.  So 
he  leaped  directly  toward  it.  Another  man  would 
have  been  killed.  Van  Cleve  was  not,  for  he  knew 
the  expertness  of  knife-throwers. 

Such  weapons  turn  in  the  air  while  speeding 
toward  a  target.  Had  Van  Cleve  remained  where 
he  was  the  point  of  it  would  have  found  him.  As 
it  was,  he  met  the  missile  several  feet  in  advance 
of  where  he  had  stood  when  it  left  the  hand  of 
Pancho,  even  though  he  stumbled  when  he  jumped. 
Falling  forward  as  he  did,  his  head  was  lowered 
to  the  level  of  his  own  breast  had  he  been  standing 
upright,  and  the  thrown  knife  struck  him,  hilt  fore- 
most, squarely  upon  the  forehead.  It  was  a  heavily- 
hilted  weapon,  made  for  throwing  purposes,  and 
Van  Cleve  fell  face  downward  in  the  path,  stunned, 
insensible. 

And  Pancho? 


36        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

That  faith-keeping  assassin  turned  about  and  fled 
even  as  the  knife  left  the  grip  of  his  finger-tips 
and  before  it  had  made  the  first  turn  in  the  air; 
and  never  having  been  in  the  habit  of  missing  his 
mark,  it  is  doubtful  if  Pancho  believed  he  had  done 
so  then.  No  doubt,  as  he  fled  away,  he  thought  of 
the  knife-blade  imbedded  in  the  heart  of  his  former 
employer,  for  he  had  not  stayed  to  see  whether  it 
was  the  point  or  the  hilt  of  the  weapon  that  struck 
its  intended  victim. 

Ten  minutes  later  two  gentlemen  who  were  cross- 
ing the  Alameda  toward  Buena  Vista  discovered 
Van  Cleve  and  the  knife  beside  him.  They  sum- 
moned a  policeman  from  the  Avenida  Juarez,  and 
the  stricken  American,  still  unconscious,  was  taken 
to  the  American  Hospital.  Van  Cleve  might  still 
have  begun  his  journey  north  the  following  morn- 
ing if  that  policeman  had  not  been  summoned  to 
the  scene  of  the  attack  upon  him,  but  the  devious 
ways  of  some  forms  of  Mexican  justice  are  peculiar 
— and  arbitrary.  He  was  notified  in  due  form  that 
he  must  appear  before  a  certain  court  on  Monday, 
at  noon,  which  was  hours  after  train  time,  and — 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  He  had  to  wait.  To 
attempt  to  get  away  before  Tuesday,  under  the 
circumstances,  then,  would  have  been  fatal  to  his 
plans.  So  he  waited.  And  Chilton  had  his  way 
after  all.  Van  Cleve  was  delayed  considerably 
beyond  the  time  he  had  appointed  for  his  departure. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  not  buried  in  Mexico,  as  his 
general  manager  had  planned.  Pancho  slept,  that 
Monday  night,  in  Belem  prison. 


CHAPTER    VI 
CHILTON'S  UNSPEAKABLE  CLEVERNESS 

Bingham  Harvard  let  his  eyes  dwell  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  the  card  that  had  just  been  given  to 
him  before  he  raised  them  and  directed  that  its 
owner  be  conducted  to  the  private  office  at  once. 
It  was  not  an  engraved  card,  but  a  written  one. 
It  bore  the  characteristic  and  unmistakable  signa- 
ture of  Anderson  Van  Cleve.  The  man  whom  we 
know  as  Holbrook  Chilton  entered,  halted  just  in- 
side the  doorway,  and  then  stepped  briskly  for- 
ward with  extended  hand. 

"You  are  Bingham  Harvard,"  he  said  in  his 
strangely  mellow  voice  when  the  proffered  hand- 
clasp was  accepted.  "My,  my!  You  were  a  little 
boy  when  I  last  saw  you;  but,  really,  I  almost  be- 
lieve that  I  would  have  known  you  at  that.  Some 
of  us  change  very  little  with  the  passing  years." 
Then  he  laughed  aloud  and  added :  "I  am  the  ex- 
ception that  proves  the  rule,  I  reckon.  Years  of  ex- 
posure to  sun  and  wind  have  left  their  stamp — 
eh?" 

"I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  Mr.  Van  Cleve," 
Harvard  replied,  indicating  a  chair,  and  relapsing 
upon  his  own  at  the  desk.  "You  are  certainly  tanned 
and  browned,  and  a  bit  grizzled,  sir;  but  for  all 
that  you  do  not  look  your  years.  You  see,  I  know 

37 


38        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

your  age.  Mr.  Chester  has  spoken  of  you  to  me 
very  often  indeed." 

"Sixty-five. my  next  birthday." 

"Surely  ?  One  would  never  guess  it,  or  even  sup- 
pose it." 

"Did  you  receive  my  last  letter,  with  the  photo- 
graphs?" Chilton  asked. 

"Yes.  In  the  first  delivery,  Tuesday  morning. 
This  is  Thursday;  the  day  you  thought  you  might 
arrive.  I  was  anticipating  your  coming,  Mr.  Van 
Cleve." 

"Good.  I  am  glad  that  I  got  here  on  time,"  the 
supposed  Van  Cleve  replied  as  Harvard  pressed  a 
button  beneath  the  edge  of  his  desk.  "How  is 
Chester,  and  where  is  he?" 

Harvard's  secretary  appeared  in  the  doorway  of 
an  adjoining  room. 

"Telephone  to  Mr.  Clancy  that  Mr.  Van  Cleve  is 
here,"  he  directed.  Then:  "Mr.  Chester  is  in 
Egypt ;  somewhere  on  the  Nile,  I  believe.  He  won't 
return  to  New  York  for  six  months,  or  more." 

"To  be  sure.  I  remember,  now,  that  I  saw  an 
announcement  to  that  effect  in  a  file  of  the  New 
York  papers  at  the  Anglo-American  Club  in  Mexico. 
In  fact,  that  was  one  reason  why  I  sent  the  photo- 
graphs. I  was  afraid  that  I  might  have  some  diffi- 
culty in  identifying  myself." 

"I  don't  think  there  would  have  been  any  diffi- 
culty about  that,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  Harvard  replied 
smilingly.  "Your  signature — the  ink  is  barely  dry 
on  the  card  you  wrote  to  send  in  to  me — would  have 
sufficed,  under  the  circumstances ;  and  there  must  be 


CHILTON'S    CLEVERNESS  39 

many  of  your  old  friends  in  the  city  who  would 
remember  you.  However,  the  photographs  render 
that  expedient  unnecessary." 

Harvard  reached  out  his  hand  and  took  the 
Llorente  envelope  containing  the  pictures  from  a 
wide  pigeonhole  of  the  desk.  Then  he  smiled 
broadly  and  said : 

"I  have  been  wondering  if  you  would  appear  here 
in  that  costume.  It  would  have  created  quite  a 
sensation  among  the  clerks  in  the  bank  had  you  done 
so." 

The  pseudo  Van  Cleve  laughed  aloud  and 
heartily. 

"Hardly  that,"  he  said.  "I  had  just  come  in  from 
the  mountains,  and  it  struck  my  fancy  to  have  the 
photographs  made,  just  as  I  stood.  You  see,  there 
are  two  reasons  why  I  dress  in  that  fashion  down 
there.  One  is  that  it  is  very  much  more  comfort- 
able for  mountain  work  than  any  other ;  the  second 
is  that  it  gives  one  a  certain  prestige  over  the  peons 
one  employs." 

Harvard  returned  the  photographs  to  the  en- 
velope and  replaced  them  in  the  pigeon-hole  from 
which  he  had  taken  it.  Chilton,  observing  closely, 
noticed  that  the  letter  that  had  been  sent  with  the 
pictures  was  still  there. 

"Is  there  anything  that  I  can  do  for  you  before 
the  bank  closes,  Mr.  Van  Geve?"  Harvard  asked 
as  he  swung  his  chair  around  again.  "Do  you 
wish  to  draw  any  money  to-day?" 

"Well,  yes,  Mr.  Harvard,  I  do.  Oddly  enough, 
as  it  happens,  I  wish  to  draw  a  considerable  part 


40        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

of  it.  But  I  have  no  intention  of  withdrawing 
my  account  from  the  Centropolis  Bank,  understand. 
In  fact,  before  the  expiration  of  another  thirty  days 
I  shall  be  carrying  a  much  larger  balance  with  you 
than  now." 

"Draw  whatsoever  you  require,  Mr.  Van  Cleve. 
Our  charter  is  a  very  old  one,  granted  in  the  days 
when  New  York  City  was  young.  It  requires  that 
only  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  shall  be  main- 
tained as  a  balance." 

"Oh,  I  shall  leave  much  more  than  that  with  you. 
The  fact  is,  I  am  investing  nearly  half  a  million  in 
an  enterprise  which  has  interested  me  for  more  than 
a  year.  I  already  have  a  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand in  it;  and — well,  my  idea  is  to  obtain  the  con- 
trol. In  fact,  that  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  de- 
termined to  pull  up  stakes  in  Mexico,  even  though 
I  sustained  a  considerable  loss  in  doing  so." 

Harvard  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"I  have  brought  with  me,"  the  pseudo  Van  Cleve 
continued,  lying  glibly,  and  with  a  winning  smile  of 
which  he  was  a  past  master,  "Chester's  letter  to  me 
in  Mexico,  and  also  the  carbon  copies  of  my  letters 
to  him,  in  which  the  amounts  of  my  various  de- 
posits, and  the  dates  thereof,  are  clearly  stated.  I 
can  show  you  those  if  you  require  any  further  iden- 
tification." 

"I  don't  think  they  are  necessary,  Mr.  Van  Cleve. 
However — have  you  brought  them  here  with  you  ?" 

"No.  They  are  with  my  baggage  at  the  hotel; 
but" — rising  and  reaching  for  his  hat — "I  can  easily 
get  them  and  bring  them  to  you." 


CHILTON'S    CLEVERNESS  41 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Chilton  did  not  have  the  let- 
ters and  carbon  copies  with  him.  He  had  been 
afraid  to  filch  them  from  Van  Cleve's  letter-files  in 
Mexico  lest  the  contractor  should  discover  their  loss 
and  telegraph  to  the  bank  concerning  it. 

"That  will  be  entirely  unnecessary,  Mr.  Van 
Cleve,"  Harvard  interposed — and  the  man  from 
Mexico  resumed  his  seat,  greatly  relieved. 

It  had  been  a  dangerous  bluff  to  play,  but  it  had 
worked.  "Did  you  bring  one  of  the  small  check- 
books with  you,  or  shall  I "  Harvard  inquired. 

"Yes.  I  have  one  of  the  small  ones  that  you  for- 
warded, with  my  name  printed  on  each  check. 
Thank  you." 

He  hitched  his  chair  forward.  Harvard  pulled 
out  the  desk-slide,  dipped  a  pen  and  handed  it  to  his 
companion  as  the  latter  drew  the  small  checkbook 
from  an  inner  pocket.  Then  Chilton  consulted  a 
notebook  which  he  took  from  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

"Just  what  do  you  make  my  balance,  Mr.  Har- 
vard?" he  asked,  pausing  with  the  pen  suspended 
over  the  checkbook. 

Harvard  consulted  a  memorandum  on  his  desk 
which  he  had  caused  to  be  prepared  in  anticipation 
of  that  question. 

"Three  hundred  and  sixty-four  thousand,  one 
hundred  and  eighty-two  dollars,"  he  replied.  "And 
here  are  the  vouchers  for  the  few  drafts  you  have 
made  upon  us,  from  Mexico,  from  time  to  time  since 
you  opened  the  account." 

"Correct.    Thank  you." 

He  wrote  rapidly  upon  the  check,  finally  affixing 


the  signature  of  Anderson  Van  Cleve  at  the  bottom 
of  it  with  a  freehand  flourish  that  would  have 
astonished  Bingham  Harvard  beyond  words  had  he 
suspected  for  an  instant  that  the  man  was  not  Van 
Cleve  at  all. 

"I  have  drawn  the  check  for  three  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand,  five  hundred,"  he  said,  tearing  it 
from  the  book  and  holding  it  up  for  Harvard's  in- 
spection. Then  he  laid  a  blotter  upon  it,  remark- 
ing casually  as  he  did  so:  "The  three-fifty  is  for 
that  investment — and  for  reasons  of  my  own  I 
prefer  to  use  cash — and  the  five  hundred  is  for 
pocket  money.  The  amount  will  not  inconvenience 
you,  I  hope,  at  this  late  hour  in  the  day?  It  is  after 
two,  now." 

"Not  at  all,  Mr.  Van  Cleve."  Harvard  pressed  a 
button  beneath  his  desk.  "How  will  you  have  it?" 
he  asked. 

"In  one-hundred-dollar  bills  as  far  as  they  will 
go — that  is,  to  the  extent  of  as  many  of  that  denom- 
ination as  you  can  spare.  The  balance  in  five  hun- 
dreds and  thousands — except  that  five  hundred  dol- 
lars for  pocket  money.  I  would  like  a  few  tens  and 
twenties." 

Harvard  made  some  rapid  memoranda  on  a  pad 
and  passed  it  to  the  man  who  had  answered  his 
summons.  Then,  as  the  man  departed  with  the 
properly  endorsed  check  upon  which  the  president  of 
the  bank  had  placed  his  O.  K.,  he  remarked: 

"That  will  make  quite  a  bulky  package,  Mr.  Van 
Cleve." 

"Oh,  no ;  not  particularly.     A  package  of  a  him- 


CHILTON'S    CLEVERNESS  43 

dred  bills  is  only  five-sixteenths  of  an  inch  thick. 
They  are  a  trifle  less  than  seven  and  a  half  inches 
long,  and  a  trifle  more  than  three  inches  wide.  So, 
you  see,  if  they  were  all  one-hundreds,  and  were 
stacked,  three  packages  in  a  row,  my  bundle  would 
be,  approximately,  five  by  eight  by  nine  inches. 
That  isn't  very  large." 

"No;  but  it  is  a  dangerous  kind  of  a  package  to 
carry  around  the  streets  of  New  York." 

"Oh,  I  won't  carry  it  very  long,  nor  far.  I  have 
an  appointment  with  the  men  who  are  interested 
with  me  at  six  o'clock — after  banking  hours.  That 
is  why  I  wanted  the  cash.  And  I  am  accustomed  to 
taking  care  of  myself." 

"I  suppose  so.  I  would  like  to  have  a  good  talk 
with  you  about  Mexico,  sometime.  When  could  you 
dine  with  me?  To-morrow  evening,  say?"  Har- 
vard produced  a  card  which  bore  his  address. 
"Mrs.  Harvard  will  be  glad  to  meet  such  an  old 
friend  of  Mr.  Chester's.  Will  you  come?" 

"Thank  you.  Certainly.  I  will  call  here  and  go 
home  with  you  after  banking  hours  if  that  is  agree- 
able." 

"Fine.  Just  the  thing.  Ah,  here  comes  your 
cash.  Mr.  Blake" — to  the  man  who  brought  in  the 
money — "give  Mr.  Van  Cleve  the  five  hundred  in 
smaller  bills,  then  make  a  neat  package  of  the  rest 
of  it."  Then  to  Chilton:  "You  will  still  have  a 
balance  with  us  of  $13,682,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.  Here 
is  Tom  Clancy,  now.  Hello  Tom.  How  are  you  ?" 

"Bully,  thank  you,  Bing.  And  this,  I  suppose,  is 
the  returned  Mexican  bandit.  How  do  you  do,  Mr. 


44        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Van  Cleve?  Harvard  has  showed  me  your  photo- 
graph, so  I  recognized  you  at  once,  notwithstanding 
the  change  in  costume.  My  dear  old  dad  used  to 
talk  about  you  a  great  deal." 

"That  is  pleasant  to  hear,  Mr.  Clancy.  A  man 
likes  to  be  remembered  by  his  old  friends." 

"Oh,  call  me  Tom.  Everybody  does;  and  you 
knew  me  when  I  was  a  kid.  By  the  way,  I  have 
brought  that  statement  with  me  that  your  letter 
asked  for.  Here  it  is.  My  firm  holds  to  your 
credit  exactly  thirty-six  thousand  dollars,  as  you 
will  see.  Shall  I  write  you  a  check  for  it  now?" 

"Oh,  no,  thank  you.  I  will  call  at  your  office  in 
the  morning  and  do  the  thing  in  proper  business 
shape." 

Blake  entered  and  gave  Van  Cleve  the  package 
of  money  at  that  moment,  and  he  left  his  chair. 

"I  will  look  in  on  you  some  time  in  the  forenoon 
to-morrow,  Mr.  Harvard."  he  said,  reaching  out  his 
hand.  "And  I'll  call  upon  you,  Mr.  Clancy,  at  ten 
in  the  morning.  But  I  must  be  going  now." 

"I  will  ask  Tom  to  dine  with  us  to-morrow  eve- 
ning, Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  Harvard  said,  rising. 
"Now,  step  outside  with  me  and  I  will  introduce 
you  to  the  cashier  and  to  the  tellers.  They  already 
know  your  signature." 

Chilton,  as  the  supposed  Van  Cleve,  with  the 
well- wrapped  package  of  bills  held  tightly  beneath 
his  left  arm,  halted  while  his  hand  was  outstretched 
to  pull  open  the  swing-gate  in  the  brass  rail  that 
guarded  the  president's  slightly  elevated  and  outer 
office.  Then  he  turned  slowly  around  again.  Har- 


CHILTON'S    CLEVERNESS  45 

vard,  noticing  his  hesitancy,  paused  also.  The 
pseudo  Van  Cleve  appeared  to  consider  a  question 
that  had  occurred  to  him.  Then,  as  if  he  had 
satisfactorily  determined  the  point,  he  crossed  the 
inclosure  again  to  Harvard's  desk  and  put  down  the 
package  of  money  upon  it.  And  deliberately,  still 
in  utter  silence,  he  began  to  remove  the  wrappings. 

"Is  anything  wrong,  Mr.  Van  Cleve?"  Harvard 
inquired. 

The  man  from  Mexico  did  not  reply  until  the 
paper-strapped  packets  of  bills  were  exposed;  and 
even  then  he  counted  out  several  of  them  and  laid 
them  aside  before  he  spoke. 

"On  second  thought,"  he  announced  slowly,  "I 
think  I  will  not  require  all  of  this  cash  to-day. 
Possibly  I  can  make  a  dicker  so  that  I  will  not  need 
it  at  all — and  I  would  very  much  prefer  to  maintain 
a  larger  balance  with  you  than  I  have  left  just 
now." 

He  picked  up  the  packets  that  he  had  laid  aside 
and  put  them  into  Harvard's  hands. 

"There's  a  hundred  thousand  there,"  he  said.  "I 
wish  you  would  restore  it  to  my  account.  I  can 
draw  it  later  on  if  I  should  need  it — but  I  hardly 
think  I  will;  and  he  began  at  once  to  rewrap  the 
remaining  packets  while  Harvard  busied  himself  in 
making  out  the  necessary  deposit-slip. 

"We  will  pass  the  hundred  thousand  in  at  the 
window  when  I  introduce  you  to  the  receiving 
teller,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  Harvard  said.  A  moment 
later,  after  again  assuring  Tom  Clancy  that  he 
would  call  upon  him  in  the  morning,  the  impostor 


46        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

followed  the  young  bank  president  down  the  few 
steps  to  the  main  floor  of  the  institution.  Then, 
when  he  had  been  properly  presented  to  the  cashier 
and  to  the  receiving  teller,  with  whom  was  left  the 
hundred  thousand  dollars  deposit,  and  to  the  pay- 
ing tellers,  he  once  more  shook  hands  with  Bingham 
Harvard  and  passed  outside.  He  had  drawn  from 
the  bank  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  five  hun- 
dred dollars  in  cash,  and  there  still  remained  one 
hundred  and  thirteen  thousand  six  hundred  and 
eighty-two  dollars  to  the  credit  of  Anderson  Van 
Cleve.  , 

At  precisely  ten  o'clock  the  following  morning 
the  pseudo  Van  Cleve  walked  into  the  offices  of 
Clancy  &  Co.,  and  found  Tom  awaiting  his  arrival, 
with  the  check  already  made  out  and  signed.  The 
two  men  chatted  amiably  together  for  nearly  half 
an  hour,  and  then  went  across  the  street  to  Clancy's 
bank,  where  the  supposed  Van  Cleve  was  properly 
identified,  and  drew  the  thirty-six  thousand  dollars 
that  the  check  called  for. 

At  eleven  o'clock  he  entered  the  Centropolis  Bank 
and  stopped  before  the  window  of  the  paying  teller. 

"You  remember  me,  of  course,  Mr.  Mordaunt?" 
he  inquired,  and  handed  in  two  checks. 

One  was  for  an  even  hundred  thousand  dollars ; 
the  other  called  for  ten  thousand  five  hundred ;  and 
there  was  a  penciled  slip  with  them  which  explained 
exactly  how  he  wanted  the  money.  He  waited  with 
exemplary  patience  while  it  was  prepared  for  him, 
thanked  the  teller  when  he  received  it,  bestowed  it 


CHILTON'S    CLEVERNESS 47 

in  various  places  about  his  person,  nodded  again  to 
Mordaunt,  stepped  away  from  the  window  and  con- 
tinued through  the  bank  to  the  president's  office. 
Bingham  Harvard  rose  to  receive  him  with  a  cor- 
dial greeting. 

"I  am  afraid,"  the  impostor  announced  after 
greetings  had  been  exchanged,  "that  I  must  disap- 
point you  about  that  dinner  engagement  for  to- 
night, Mr.  Harvard.  The  fact  is,  things  did  not 
go  through  as  expeditiously  as  I  anticipated  yester- 
day. But  we  are  to  have  another  session  to-night, 
and,  possibly,  still  another  one  to-morrow.  But, 
later " 

"Then  why  not  come  to  us  on  Sunday,  Mr.  Van 
Cleve?"  Harvard  interposed.  "To-day  is  Friday. 
Shall  we  say  Sunday,  at  four?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted,  of  course — if  Mrs.  Harvard 
will  overlook  my  remissness  of  this  evening." 

Harvard  was  assuring  him  that  there  could  be  no 
doubt  on  that  point  when  one  of  the  clerks  entered 
and  said  something  to  him  in  a  low  tone. 

"Excuse  me  just  a  moment,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  he 
said,  rising ;  and  he  passed  outside  to  the  floor  of  the 
bank  to  attend  to  some  detail  that  required  his  per- 
sonal supervision. 

Chilton  was,  of  course,  left  entirely  alone  in  the 
president's  office.  He  was  seated  quite  close  to 
Harvard's  desk,  near  the  end  that  was  toward  the 
bank,  and  Harvard's  temporary  absence  gave  the 
impostor  the  very  opportunity  he  had  wished  for, 
which  he  had  feared  might  not  occur,  but  which  he 


48        THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

had  been  resolved  to  wait  and  watch  for  as  long  as  it 
might  be  discreet  on  his  part  to  do  so. 

The  two  photographs  of  himself  were  still  con- 
tained in  the  Llorente  envelope,  in  the  wide  pigeon- 
hole of  Bingham  Harvard's  desk,  he  knew.  Yester- 
day, late  in  the  afternoon,  he  had  seen  the  young 
bank  president  restore  them  to  that  receptacle.  They 
were  within  reach  of  his  hand  when  Harvard  left 
him  alone  beside  the  desk,  and  he  did  not  hesitate. 
He  flashed  a  quick  and  comprehensive  glance  toward 
the  bank  floor,  then  reached  out  for  the  envelope 
and  drew  it  quickly  toward  him.  It  required  only 
an  instant  to  make  the  change  and  substitution  that 
he  had  determined  upon  if  the  opportunity  should 
occur,  and  to  restore  the  Llorente  envelope,  with  its 
contents  apparently  undisturbed,  to  its  place  in  the 
pigeon-hole  of  the  desk.  Then  he  leaned  backward 
in  his  chair  and  was  occupied  in  lighting  a  cigar 
when  Harvard  returned. 

Chilton  rose  to  depart  a  moment  later. 

"You  are  busy,  and  I  will  not  occupy  your  time 
needlessly,  Mr.  Harvard,"  he  said ;  "and  probably  I 
will  not  see  you  again  until  Sunday  afternoon,  at 
four.  I  came,  in  fact,  merely  to  make  another  draft 
on  my  balance  here,  for  I  found  that  after  all  I 
needed  some  additional  cash  to  carry  through  that 
deal  properly.  Shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing Mr.  Clancy,  too,  on  Sunday,  as  would  have  been 
the  case  to-night?" 

"Assuredly  Tom  will  be  there,"  Harvard  replied. 

"Then  I  shall  look  forward  to  dining  with  you 
Sunday  afternoon  with  additional  pleasure.  My 


CHILTON'S    CLEVERNESS  49 

only  regret  is  that  Mr.  Chester  is  not  to  be  present 
also.  It  is  unfortunate  that  he  should  be  abroad 
at  just  this  time.  Well,  Mr.  Harvard,  until 
then " 

Holbrook  Chilton,  the  impostor,  passed  deliber- 
ately through  the  bank  to  the  street.  Much  that 
remained  of  the  banking  hours  of  that  Friday  Chil- 
ton employed  in  what  appeared  to  be  an  aimless 
wandering  through  the  streets  of  the  city.  But,  in 
fact,  there  was  nothing  aimless  about  his  conduct. 
Quite  the  contrary.  He  entered  every  bank  he 
could  find  and  sought  the  teller's  window  in  each 
one;  and  there  he  inevitably  changed  a  thousand- 
dollar  bill — two  of  them,  or  three,  in  many  places 
— into  bills  of  smaller  denominations. 

Just  before  three  o'clock  that  same  afternoon  he 
paid  his  bill  at  the  hotel,  engaged  a  taxi  to  take 
him  to  the  Grand  Central  Station,  purchased  a  ticket 
there  for  Chicago,  secured  a  stateroom  in  a  Pull- 
man, and  went  aboard  the  train.  People  who  saw 
him  and  noticed  him — and  it  afterward  developed 
that  there  were  many  such — recalled  each  of  these 
incidents ;  and  also  the  fact  that  he  had  carried  two 
satchels,  one  of  them  being  quite  small.  Neither 
the  Pullman  conductor  nor  the  porter  of  the  car 
could  tell  when  or  where  he  left  the  Chicago  train, 
save  only  that  he  must  have  done  so  some  time 
during  the  night. 

In  the  stateroom  he  had  occupied  the  larger  of 
the  two  satchels  he  had  carried  remained.  Inside 
of  it  was  the  suit  of  clothes  he  had  worn  when  he 
boarded  the  train  in  New  York,  and  also  the  hat, 


50        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

shirt,  tie,  collar,  and  even  the  tan  shoes.  The 
smaller  of  the  two  bags  was  not  there.  Neither 
was  there  the  slightest  clue  of  any  kind.  Not  a 
shred  of  lint;  not  a  hair,  nor  a  button,  nor  the 
stump  of  a  cigar,  nor  a  cigarette-butt,  nor  a  scrap 
of  paper.  Moreover,  a  heap  of  soiled  towels  dem- 
onstrated that  he  had  carefully  wiped  off  any  pos- 
sible finger-prints  that  might  have  been  left  upon 
the  windows  or  the  furniture  of  the  stateroom. 
The  berth  had  not  been  slept  in.  All  that  the 
porter  could  disclose  was  that  the  gentleman  had 
retired  as  soon  as  he  returned  from  the  dining-car 
and  was  not  seen  afterward.  But  even  that  much 
information  was  not  forthcoming  until  several  days 
later. 

Then  at  eleven  o'clock  of  the  day  following — 
Saturday — Anderson  Van  Cleve  himself,  in  proper 
person,  walked  in  at  the  door  of  the  C«ntropolis 
Bank  and  sent  his  card  to  the  president. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   OTHER    MAN    FROM    MEXICO 

There  are  sensations,  and  sensations.  The  one 
experienced  by  Bingham  Harvard  when  the  real 
Anderson  Van  Cleve's  card  was -put  before  him 
defies  description.  Intuitively  he  perceived  at  that 
instant,  before  he  had  so  much  as  had  a  glance  at 
the  owner  of  the  card,  that  he  had  been  the  victim 
of  a  malicious  hoax.  A  sixth  sense  within  him  told 
him  at  once  that  the  other  man  to  whom  he  had 
paid  the  money  had  been  an  impostor.  The  card 
was  not  a  written  one,  as  the  other  had  been,  bear- 
ing the  signature  of  the  man  who  had  sent  it  in;  it 
was  a  properly  engraved  card,  and  Van  Cleve's  ad- 
dress in  the  City  of  Mexico  was  announced  in 
smaller  letters  in  one  corner  of  it. 

The  clerk  who  took  the  card  to  Harvard  stood 
waiting,  but  it  was  nearly  half  a  minute  before  the 
young  bank  president  recovered  from  the  shock  of 
the  sudden  revelation  and  directed  that  the  gentle- 
man be  admitted  to  the  private  office.  There  was  an 
interval  of  only  a  few  seconds  until  Van  Cleve  ap- 
peared; but  Bingham  Harvard,  even  in  his  strenu- 
ous "Night  Wind"  days  *  had  never  thought  so  rap- 

*  See   "Alias  the  Night  Wind"  and   "The   Return  of   the 
Night  Wind." 

51 


52        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

idly  nor  so  intensely  as  he  did  during  that  brief 
interval. 

Then  Anderson  Van  Cleve  came  into  the  room. 
Harvard  rose  from  his  chair  to  greet  him — and 
wondered  inwardly  as  he  did  so  how  he  could  have 
been  deceived  even  for  a  moment,  by  that  other 
man.  Twenty  years  and  more  had  elapsed  since  he 
had  looked  upon  the  face  of  Anderson  Van  Cleve, 
and  he  had  been  a  mere  boy  when  that  happened; 
but  as  he  looked  upon  it  again,  at  the  present  mo- 
ment, he  recalled  it  distinctly  and  perfectly.  The 
sight  of  it  unlocked  the  door  of  the  particular  brain- 
cell  of  memory  where  it  had  been  stored  away  since 
Harvard's  childhood,  and  in  that  instant,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  his  caller,  he  remembered  even  the 
circumstances  of  their  last  meeting. 

"Do  you  remember  me,  Bingham?"  Mr.  Van 
Cleve  inquired  in  his  soft,  quiet  tones,  and  in  a  man- 
ner that  was  perfectly  at  ease. 

"Perfectly — now — that  you  stand  face  to  face 
with  me.  But  I  had  forgotten  you  entirely  until 
you  crossed  that  threshold,"  Harvard  replied,  pull- 
ing forward  a  chair  for  his  guest. 

Van  Cleve  replied : 

"I  was  afraid  that  you  might  have  forgotten  me 
— you  were  only  a  lad  when  I  last  saw  you,  you 
know — and  I  surmised,  because  you  had  become 
president  of  the  bank  and  your  foster  father  had 
retired  from  active  participation  in  its  affairs,  that 
he  might  be  absent  when  I  arrived.  Hence  the  pho- 
tographs that  I  sent  to  you.  You  received  them, 
of  course?" 


THE  OTHER  MAN  FROM  MEXICO      53 

Harvard  hesitated,  then  nodded  his  head.  Then, 
as  entire  frankness  and  truthfulness  was  his  rule 
of  life,  and  because  he  realized  that  the  whole  truth 
must  be  told,  he  said  : 

"I  received  a  letter  and  some  photographs  which 
arrived  in  the  same  package,  contained  in  an  en- 
velope which  bore  the  name  Llorente.  But  the  pho- 
tographs were  not  of  you,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.  Evi- 
dently there  had  been  a  substitution  of  others  in 
the  place  of  yours  at  the  last  moment.  Do  you 
recall  who  was  with  you  at  the  time  the  envelope 
was  sealed  for  mailing?" 

"Perfectly.     Why?" 

"Bear  with  me  a  moment,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.  I  will 
make  it  all  clear  to  you  presently.  And,  before  we 
proceed,  you  of  course  understand  that  if  there  has 
been  a  loss  it  is  not  yours.  The  bank — or  rather,  I 
personally — must  sustain  that." 

"Has  there  been  a  loss  ?"  Van  Cleve  asked  in  his 
quiet  tones.  "Has  some  person  succeeded  in  impos- 
ing upon  you  by  representing  himself  to  be  Ander- 
son Van  Cleve  ?" 

"Yes.  I  will  come  to  that  in  a  moment.  Who 
was  with  you  when  the  envelope  that  contained 
your  letter  and  the  photographs  was  sealed?" 

"My  superintendent  and  general  manager — a  man 
named  Holbrook  Chilton." 

"Nobody  else?" 

"No." 

"Is  he  a  tall,  bearded  man,  tanned  and  browned  to 
the  complexion  of  an  Indian?  Has  he  a  heavy 
shock  of  rather  long  hair  that  was  once  black  but 


54        THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

is  now  quite  gray;  that  is  white,  in  fact,  over  the 
temples  ?  Is  his  beard  nearly  white  in  front  of  the 
ears  and  grizzled  where  it  is  not  white?  And  did 
he  wear  the  charo  costume  of  Mexico  and  a  wide 
sombrero?"  Harvard  asked  evenly  and  slowly. 

"That  is  a  very  good  mental  picture  of  him,  save 
for  the  description  you  give  of  his  hair  and  beard. 
I  don't  remember  that  he  had  any  gray  hairs  at 
all." 

"Then  he  must  have  made  them  so  with  some 
preparation." 

"Probably.  How  much  did  he  succeed  in  get- 
ting away  with?" 

"A  very  considerable  sum,  Mr.  Van  Cleve;  but, 
as  I  said  before,  the  loss  is  not  yours — it  is  ours. 
Wait.  I  will  show  you  the  pictures  of  himself  that 
he  sent  in  place  of  yours." 

Harvard  turned  his  chair  and  reached  out  for 
the  envelope  of  the  photographer,  Llorente,  in 
which,  he  still  supposed,  were  contained  the  two 
photographs  of  the  man  in  charo  costume  who  had 
so  success fiuly  introduced  and  identified  himself  as 
Anderson  Van  Cleve. 

"Here  they  are,"  he  said,  and  drew  the  two  pic- 
tures, with  Van  Cleve's  letter  between  them,  from 
the  envelope. 

For  a  moment  afterward  he  sat  quite  motionless, 
staring  at  the  objects  he  held  in  his  hand,  an  ex- 
pression of  utter  amazement  depicted  upon  his  coun- 
tenance. Then  amazement  became  anger — and  an- 
ger faded  slowly  into  chagrined  amusement.  There 
was  a  wry  smile  in  his  eyes  and  twitching  at  the 


THE  OTHER  MAN  FROM  MEXICO      55 

corners  of  his  mouth  when,  without  further  com- 
ment, he  put  the  two  photographs  into  the  out- 
stretched hand  of  Anderson  Van  Geve.  It  was  the 
latter's  turn  to  manifest  amazement  then. 

"Why,"  he  exclaimed,  raising  his  eyes  quickly, 
"these  are  not  pictures  of  Chilton!  They  are  the 
photographs  of  ^myself ;  the  very  same  two  that  I 
sent  to  you  from  Mexico  City." 

Harvard  nodded. 

"I  know  it — now,"  he  said,  still  smiling  that 
wry  smile.  "There  has  been  another  substitution; 
that  is  all.  The  other  two  pictures — those  that  I 
have  described  to  you — were  in  this  envelope  at  a 
late  hour  yesterday  afternoon.  Mr.  Holbrook  Chil-. 
ton  is  an  exceedingly  clever  person,  Mr.  Van  Cleve." 

"He  is  even  more  resourceful  than  I  had  sup- 
posed," was  Van  Cleve's  dry  comment.  "But  never 
mind  the  loss  of  those  photographs  of  him.  I  have 
a  small  kodak  snapshot  of  him  that  I  took  myself 
less  than  a  year  ago — if  it  will  be  of  any  service 
later." 

"He  must  have  made  this  second  substitution  yes- 
terday, when  I  left  him  alone  near  my  desk  for  two 
or  three  minutes,"  Harvard  said. 

"Do  I  understand  you,  Harvard,  that  Chilton  was 
here  in  this  bank — in  this  very  office — as  late  as 
yesterday  ?"  Van  Cleve  asked. 

"Yes.  And  he  occupied  that  same  chair  upon 
which  you  are  now  seated.  He  was  here  at  eleven 
o'clock.  He  went  away  about  eleven-thirty.  But  I 
had  better  tell  you  the  entire  story,  just  as  it  hap- 
pened, Mr.  Van  Cleve." 


56        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Yes,  of  course.  But  wait  a  moment  before  you 
begin.  I  remember  now  that  it  was  Chilton  who 
put  the  photographs  into  the  envelope  and  sealed 
it  in  Mexico.  That  was  when  he  made  the  first 
substitution.  Afterward  we  walked  down  to  the 
Zocolo  together  and  put  it  in  the  general  post- 
office.  But  never  mind  that  now.  Let  me  hear  the 
entire  story." 

Harvard  told  it.  He  began  at  the  moment  of 
Chilton' s  first  appearance,  and  he  omitted  no  detail 
with  which  he  was  familiar,  up  to  the  time  when 
Chilton  walked  out  of  the  Centropolis  Bank  at  half 
past  eleven  the  preceding  day;  and  Mr.  Van  Cleve 
listened  to  the  recital  with  close  attention.  In  the 
beginning  of  it,  however,  Harvard  paused  long 
enough  to  use  the  telephone  and  to  call  up  the 
detective  agency  that  handled  the  bank's  busi- 
ness. By  the  time  he  had  finished,  the 
chief  of  that  agency,  with  two  of  his  best  op- 
eratives, sent  in  their  cards.  Then  Harvard  had  to 
go  entirely  over  the  story  a  second  time,  to  reply 
to  innumerable  questions  and  to  describe  as  well  as 
he  could  do  so  the  man  himself.  Thus  was  de- 
veloped, in  a  comparatively  short  time  thereafter, 
the  information  described  in  the  closing  words  of 
the  preceding  chapter. 

Also,  during  that  conversation  was  disclosed  the 
exact  amount  that  Chilton  had  succeeded  in  getting 
away  with,  as  follows : 

By  the  first  check,  O.  K.'d  by  Bingham  Harvard, 
$350,500 — of  which  $100,000  was  redeposited  at 
once.  By  a  second  and  third  check,  cashed  at  the 


THE  OTHER  MAN  FROM  MEXICO     57 

teller's  window  (where  the  man  had  been  intro- 
duced by  Harvard),  $10,500  and  $100,000,  respec- 
tively. And  from  Tom  Clancy,  $36,000.  Total, 
$397,000.  Chilton  had  left  in  the  Centropolis  Bank 
only  $3,182  of  the  amount  that  Van  Cleve  had 
placed  on  deposit  there. 

"The  only  wonder  is  that,  with  his  superb  assur- 
ance and  nerve,  he  did  not  take  it  all"  Mr.  Van 
Cleve  remarked  dryly. 

"He  might  have  done  so,"  Bingham  Harvard  re- 
plied. "I  had  not  a  doubt  concerning  the  identifi- 
cation ;  neither  had  Tom  Clancy.  Why,  the  fellow 
offered  to  show  me  the  letters  he  had  received  from 
us  here  and  carbon  copies  of  your  letters  to  us 
which,  he  said,  were  in  his  baggage  at  the  hotel. 
It  shows  the  extent  of  my  gullibility,  Mr.  Van 
Cleve,  that  I  waved  the  offer  aside  as  unnecessary." 

Harvard  wheeled  his  chair  around  until  he  again 
faced  the  chief  of  the  detective  agency. 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  chief?"  he  asked 
with  a  half  smile. 

The  chief  shook  his  head. 

"One  cannot  answer  such  a  question  offhand," 
he  replied.  "Chilton,  as  he  called  himself — and  you 
can  bank  on  it  that  it  is  not  his  right  name — has 
had  twenty- four  hours  for  his  get-away.  He  might 
be  in  Chicago,  St.  Louis,  New  Orleans,  or  any 
old  place  by  this  time.  But  I  will  get  the  wires  busy 
at  once,  Mr.  Harvard,  and  report  to  you  as  soon 
as  there  is  anything  to  report." 

As  soon  as  Van  Cleve  and  Harvard  were  alone 


58        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

again,  the  former  remarked  in  his  quietly  even 
tone: 

"Bingham,  it  has  been  a  business  rule  with  me 
never  to  put  all  of  my  eggs  into  one  basket;  which 
is  to  say  that  my  account  in  this  bank  is  not  the 
only  one  I  have  on  this  side  of  the  Rio  Grande.  I 
have  one  in  St.  Louis,  one  in  Chicago,  and  another 
in  Boston.  So  the  temporary  deprivation  of  my 
balance  here  will  not  embarrass  me  at  all.  There- 
fore I  have  a  suggestion  to  make  to  you." 

"Yes,  sir?" 

"Your  paying  tellers,  your  cashier,  possibly  one 
or  more  others  of  your  employees,  those  defectives, 
and  ourselves  are  the  only  persons  who  have  knowl- 
edge of  what  has  happened.  My  advice  is  that  you 
enjoin  absolute  secrecy  upon  all  of  them,  and  that 
the  circumstances  be  kept  entirely  to  ourselves  for 
the  present." 

"But  you " 

"I  am  your  foster  father's  friend  and  yours.  I 
do  not  need  that  money  at  present.  I  do  believe 
that  we  will  recover  it— or  very  nearly  all  of  it — 
sooner  or  later.  So  let's  go  easy  for  the  present, 
anyhow." 

"If  Chilton  should  have  taken  it  into  his  head  to 
return  to  Mexico — what  then?" 

"He  won't  do  that.  I  feel  assured  of  that  much. 
If  he  should — well,  I'd  get  him  quicker  than  you 
could  get  him  here.  No.  He  won't  go  back  to 
Mexico.  My  belief  is  that  he  will  stay  right  here 
in  New  York  City.  I  know  the  man.  I  know  his 
nerve.  I  know  his  resourcefulness.  I  will  admit 


THE  OTHER  MAN  FROM  MEXICO      59 

to  you  now  that  I  had  an  inkling  of  what  might 
have  happened  before  I  arrived  in  New  York." 

"You  did?     How  was  that,  sir?" 

"I  was  detained  two  days  after  the  time  I  had  set 
for  leaving  Mexico.  The  stated  reason  for  my  de- 
tention was  a  mere  subterfuge,  and  I  knew  it,  but  I 
could  not  avoid  it.  I  half  suspected  that  Chilton 
was  the  cause  of  it,  and  it  made  me  think.  I  was 
not  entirely  unprepared  for  what  has  happened." 

Harvard  picked  up  the  two  checks  that  Chilton 
had  signed,  which  he  had  ordered  sent  in  to  him, 
examined  them  attentively,  and  then  asked  Van 
Cleve  to  write  his  name. 

Then  he  put  the  forgeries  down  on  the  desk  in 
front  of  him,  one  on  either  side  of  the  genuine 
signature. 

"It  is  the  most  remarkable  forgery  I  have  ever 
seen/'  he  said  after  a  moment. 

"Yes,"  Van  Cleve  replied,  also  studying  the  three 
signatures.  "Chilton  is  what  you  may  call  a  'free- 
hand' artist.  He  is  really  wonderful  with  his  pencil, 
in  sketching  faces,  reproducing  expressions  and  all 
that.  That  same  talent  has  enabled  him,  with  prac- 
tice, to  reproduce  my  signature  with  exactitude.  A 
signature  should  be  more  easily  copied  in  that  way 
than  the  expression  depicted  in  eyes,  mouth,  nos- 
trils, and  contour  of  a  man's  face.  But  it  does  not 
concern  us  as  to  how  he  did  it;  the  fact  that  stares 
at  us  is  that  he  did  do  it,  and  that  he  got  away 
with  it." 

When  Van  Cleve  had  gone  away,  and  Bingham 
Harvard  was  alone,  he  sat  very  still  at  his  desk  for 


60        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

a  long  time,  thinking  deeply  and  intensely  upon  the 
problem  that  confronted  him.  Then  he  pulled  out 
a  drawer  of  the  desk  and  took  therefrom  a  photo- 
graph of  a  police  officer  in  the  uniform  of  a  lieu- 
tenant. The  face  was  a  handsome  one  in  its  way, 
although  possibly  it  suggested  rather  too  much  of 
what  might  be  called  "bulldog"  characteristics.  It 
was  the  picture  of  Detective  Lieutenant  Rodney 
Rushton,  who  was,  at  the  time,  serving  out  a  long 
prison  sentence  for  complicity  in  the  theft  of  $136,- 
ooo  from  that  very  bank.  The  picture  was  one 
which  the  lieutenant  had  given  to  President  Chester, 
long  ago,  at  a  time  when  he  possessed  Chester's 
entire  confidence. 

Harvard  studied  the  pictured  face  long  and  care- 
fully. Then,  silently,  he  told  himself: 

"Rushton  is  the  man!  He  has  got  the  ability, 
and,  if  given  the  opportunity,  he  can,  and  he  will, 
make  good.  I  wonder  if  it  can  be  done?  I  wonder 
if  I  can  get  him  out  of  prison,  on  parole,  for  this 
specific  purpose  ? 

"It  is  worth  trying,  anyway,  and  it  will  give  him 
an  opportunity  to  redeem  himself.  Set  a  thief  to 
catch  a  thief!  By  Jove,  I'll  try  it." 

Harvard  reached  for  the  telephone  and  called  up 
the  office  of  the  district  attorney. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  MAKING  OF  A  MAN 

The  private  office  of  the  district  attorney  of  New 
York  county,  four  days  later;  Wednesday  of  the 
succeeding  week.  The  district  attorney  and  Bing- 
ham  Harvard  were  alone  together.  They  had  the 
air  of  having  exhausted  the  topic  that  was  the  ob- 
ject of  their  meeting  at  that  time  and  place.  They 
seemed  to  be  awaiting  the  arrival  of  a  person  ex- 
pected. After  a  somewhat  extended  silence  be- 
tween them,  the  county  official  remarked,  casually : 

"I  regret,  Harvard,  that  I  have  not  the  confidence 
in  this  experiment  that  you  possess.  The  fact  is 
due,  I  suppose,  to  my  official  training.  Honestly,  as 
I  told  you  when  you  suggested  this  thing,  last  Sat- 
urday, Rushton  is  the  very  last  man  I  would  have 
selected  for  this  form  of  leniency." 

"Nevertheless,  I  believe  that  he  will  make  good," 
Harvard  replied,  smiling  confidently. 

The  district  attorney  shrugged. 

"He  was  a  grafter  from  Graftersville,"  he  said, 
shortly.  "He  is  a  convicted  felon.  He  has  served 
less  than  two  years  of  his  ten  years'  sentence.  He 
is " 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  summons  at  the 
door. 

"He  has  arrived,  evidently,"  Harvard  said  qui- 
etly. "Will  you  leave  me  quite  alone  with  him, 

61 


62        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

please?  And  I  would  rather  that  you  did  not  ad- 
dress a  word  to  him  now.  Wait  until  I  have  had 
my  talk  with  him." 

"Oh,  all  right,  Harvard.    Just  as  you  say." 

The  district  attorney  left  his  chair  and  threw 
open  the  door.  Three  men  stood  outside,  waiting: 
two  detectives  of  the  district  attorney's  staff,  and 
between  them,  Rodney  Rushton,  handcuffed  to  one 
of  them. 

"Take  off  those  irons,  Snell,  and  leave  Rushton 
alone  with  this  gentleman,"  the  district  attorney 
ordered,  and  passed  outside. 

A  moment  later  the  door  closed,  and  Rodney 
Rushton,  unfettered  and  unhampered,  stood  alone 
in  the  presence  of  the  man  he  had  once  so  foully 
wronged,  and  who  had  been  the  direct  cause  of  the 
prison  sentence  he  was  enduring.*  Rushton's  eyes 
were  furtive,  suspicious,  sullen.  With  his  close- 
cropped  hair  and  shaven  face  and  lip,  he  looked 
more  the  bulldog  than  ever.  The  angry  scowl  on 
his  face  and  in  his  eyes,  deepened  the  instant  he 
saw  and  recognized  Bingham  Harvard. 

"You,  eh?"  he  said,  with  a  half  snarl,  bending 
slightly  forward  toward  the  man  he  thought  to  be 
his  sworn  enemy.  His  eyes  were  blazing  with  ill- 
suppressed  fury.  His  fingers  twitched.  Every 
muscle  in  his  body  was  tense  and  strained  in  the 
visible  effort  at  self-control. 

"Say,  Harvard,  if  I  didn't  know  that  you  pos- 
sess the  strength  of  ten  ordinary  men,  I'd  take  a 

*  See  "Alias  the  Night  Wind"  and  "The  Return  of  the  Night 
Wind." 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MAN  63 

chance  right  now,  and  try  to  choke  the  life  outa 
you." 

"Sit  down,  Rushton,"  Harvard  replied  calmly. 
"Take  that  chair.  I  have  considerable  to  say  to 
you." 

"Oh,  you  have,  have  you?  Say,  what  did  you 
have  me  brought  down  here  for,  anyhow?  Wanta 
get  some  more  testimony  out  o'  me — eh?"  Rush- 
ton  snarled ;  but  he  dropped  into  the  chair  that  Har- 
vard indicated. 

"You  were  a  good  detective,  Rushton,"  Harvard 
replied,  speaking  slowly  but  with  quiet  emphasis. 
"By  nature,  and  by  training,  and  because  of  experi- 
ence and  a  natural  aptitude  for  the  work,  there  was 
none  better  qualified  than  yourself  when  you  were 
at  headquarters.  If  you  had  kept  straight — if  you 
had  not  gone  money-mad — you  would  have  been 
the  peer  of  all  of  them  down  there.  You  know 
that,  don't  you?" 

"Say,  Mr.  Man,  is  this  here  guff  you're  givin' 
me  intended  for  a  sermon?" 

"Possibly;  but  I  want  you  to  listen  to  me  to  the 
end.  You  admit,  do  you  not,  that  what  I  have  said 
is  true?" 

"Maybe  it  is,  and  maybe  it  ain't.     What  of  it?" 

"This :  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question 
straight  from  the  shoulder,  Rushton — and  I  want 
you  to  reply  to  it,  straight  from  your  inmost  heart. 
This  is  it:  If  you  were  given  a  chance  to  redeem 
yourself — if  you  were  freed  from  prison  on  parole, 
and  given  the  opportunity  to  make  good,  would 
you  do  it?  Would  you  be  on  the  level?" 


Harvard  paused  to  study  the  effect  of  his  words. 
And  then. 

"Would  you  play  square  and  open?  Would  you 
be  honest  and  straightforward,  and  do  your  utmost 
to  win  back  the  place  in  the  world  that  you  have 
lost,  and  to  deserve  once  more  the  respect  and 
confidence  of  your  fellow  men?  Would  you, 
Rushton?" 

Harvard  bent  forward  in  his  chair  as  he  put  the 
compound  question.  His  level  gaze  bored  into 
Rushton's  soul,  and  the  convict's  eyes  widened,  his 
face  became  a  shade  whiter  than  its  prison  pallor, 
and  his  lips  parted  in  an  effort  to  speak,  although 
for  a  space  no  sound  issued  from  them.  But  at 
last,  in  a  voice  that  was  gruff  and  husky  with  emo- 
tion, he  faltered: 

"As  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  Har- 
vard, I  would!  /  would!"  Then:  "Say!  What 
are  you  givin'  me,  anyhow?  What  kind  of  a  stall 
is  this  that  you're  workin'  on  me?  I  ain't  no 
candy  kid,  Mr.  Bingham  Harvard.  What  are  you 
try  in'  to  dig  out  from  under  my  breast-plate,  Mr. 
Alias  the  Night  Wind?" 

Harvard  leaned  back  in  his  chair  again,  smiling. 

"I'll  accept  your  reply  to  my  questions  and  strike 
out  those  you  have  asked,"  he  said.  "I  am  here  to 
offer  you  just  that  chance,  Rushton.  You  are  here 
to  accept  it,  or  decline  it,  as  you  may  prefer." 

The  convict  seized  upon  the  arms  of  his  chair 
and  gripped  them  until  his  knuckles  became  as 
white  as  chalk.  He  breathed  hard.  He  attempted 
no  reply.  He  had  begun  to  realize  that  the  man 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MAN 65 

by  whom  he  was  confronted  was  not  merely  talk- 
ing— was  in  earnest  in  what  he  had  said. 

Harvard  spoke  again,  in  a  low  tone,  and  quietly. 

"You  have  been,  in  the  past,  about  seven-tenths 
to  the  good,  and  three-tenths  to  the  bad,  Rushton 
— and  that  is  pretty  nearly  the  make-up  of  almost 
every  man  you  will  meet  and  pass  in  the  city 
streets.  The  difference  is  that  the  badness  takes 
different  forms  in  different  men.  Yours  took  the 
form  of  money-madness.  You  have  been  trained 
in  an  atmosphere  of  graft.  You  came  to  look 
upon  it  as  a  sort  of  inherited  right.  With  time 
and  opportunity  it  spread,  like  a  rash  on  your 
skin,  all  over  you,  all  through  you.  And  then  it 
got  you  'in  bad,'  and  it  dumped  you,  and  put  you 
where  you  have  been  for  almost  two  years.  You 
want  to  get  out  of  it,  don't  you?" 

"You  bet  your  sweet  life  I  want  to  get  out  of 
it,  Mr.  Harvard.  Honest,  don't  play  with  me  or 
fool  me,  for  God's  sake !  Is  there  a  chance  ?  Say, 
is  there  one?" 

"Yes,  Rushton,  there  is  one.    Will  you  take  it?" 

"Will  /  take  it?     Good  God,  won't  I  take  it!" 

His  lips  trembled.  He  wheeled  in  his  tracks 
until  his  back  was  toward  Harvard,  and  stood  so 
for  a  moment  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 
Then  he  turned  slowly  around  again,  and  with 
solemn  face  but  shining  eyes  he  said  quietly:  "I 
will  take  it,  Mr.  Harvard,  and  I  will  make 
good." 

"Fine,"  said  Harvard.  "Sit  down  again  now, 
and  look  this  over."  He  took  a  folded  document 


flG        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

from  one  of  his  pockets  and  gave  it  to  Rushton. 
The  latter  read  what  it  contained,  with  distended 
eyes  and  set  jaws.  Twice  he  looked  up  incredu- 
lously, unbelievingly.  Then  he  read  on  to  the  end 
of  it.  Then  he  folded  it  and  sat  very  still,  holding 
the  document  tightly  in  one  clenched  hand.  He  did 
not  speak;  possibly  he  could  not  have  done  so  at 
that  moment. 

Harvard  spoke  again  quietly : 

"It  is,  as  you  see,  a  parole,  granted  at  the  in- 
stance of  the  district  attorney  and  myself  and 
signed  by  the  Governor  of  the  State.  It  gives  you 
your  freedom  under  the  stated  conditions.  A  dis- 
honest act  on  your  part  would  end  it.  Either  the 
district  attorney  or  myself  can  have  you  returned 
to  prison  at  any  time — but  neither  of  us  will  ever 
think  of  doing  so  unless  you  give  us  cause.  You 
cannot  leave  the  State  save  with  the  written  per- 
mission of  one  of  us,  but  I  shall  give  you  that 
written  permission  to  go  wheresoever  you  will  at 
once." 

"But  why,  why?  Why  have  you  done  this,  Mr. 
Harvard?  For  me!  You,  of  all  men!  Why?  I  do 

not  understand  it.  I Say!  I'll  go  through 

hell  for  you  for  this,  and  I  won't  get  so  much  as 
a  hair  of  my  head  singed,  either.  I'm  done  with 
crooked  ways.  I'll  make  good!  I'll  make  good! 
You  have  given  me  the  chance;  you  watch.  I — I 
wish  I  was  a  woman  for  half  a  minute;  I'd  like 
to  cry.  Honest." 

"Go  ahead  and  cry.     iC  won't  hurt  you." 

"I  can't,  and  that's  the  hell  of  it.     Honest,  Mr. 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MAN 67 

Harvard,  why  did  you  do  this?  Because — I  know 
that  you're  the  one  who  has  done  it." 

Harvard  smiled  as  he  replied  : 

"Partly  from  a  motive  of  selfishness,  Rushton, 
and  partly  because  I  have  the  utmost  faith  in  that 
seven-tenths  of  good  in  you.  I  have  got  a  case 
for  you  to  work  out — quite  an  important  one.  I 
believe  that  you  can  do  it.  I  have  convinced  my- 
self that  you  are  the  only  man  who  can  do  it 
quickly,  in  the  right  way  and  as  I  want  it  done.  It 
would  not  do  the  State  of  New  York  any  good, 
or  me  any  good,  or  you  any  good,  to  keep  you 
locked  up  in  prison  eight  years  more.  To  have  you 
outside  and  busy  and  redeeming  yourself  as  well 
as  serving  the  State  and  county,  will  do  us  all 
good.  You  were  never  a  criminal  from  choice 
and  selection;  you  became  one  because  of  environ- 
ment and  an  insidious  'system.'  I  am  going  to  put 
you  on  the  track  of  a  man  who  is  a  criminal  from 
deliberate  study,  selection,  and  self -education  to 
that  end — the  kind  of  a  man  whom  it  is  best  to 
put  into  a  prison  and  keep  there.  Do  you  want 
the  job?" 

"You  bet  I  do.  Just  lead  me  to  the  place  where 
the  trail  begins,  that's  all." 

"The  trail  begins  in  my  private  office  at  the 
bank,  Rushton.  I  am  its  president  now.  Mr. 
Chester  has  retired.  We  will  go  there  together. 
But  first" — he  pressed  a  button  beneath  the  edge 
of  the  desk — "we  must  say  good-by  to  the  district 
attorney." 

That  official  entered  a  moment  later.     Rushton 


68        THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

sprang  to  his  feet  in  greeting.  His  face  was  trans- 
figured. He  looked  another  man  than  the  one  who 
had  stood  at  the  door  a  little  while  before,  hand- 
cuffed to  an  officer.  His  eyes  shone  with  enthusi- 
asm and  confidence.  He  stood  straight  and  solidly 
upon  his  feet  where  he  had  half  slouched  before. 

"Mr.  District  Attorney,  I  want  to  thank  you  for 
this,"  he  said.  "I  want  to  promise  you  that  you 
won't  be  sorry — that  you  will  never  regret  what 
has  happened  to-day.  I  am  going  to  make  good. 
I'm  going  to  win  back  all  that  I  lost.  Why,  I 
can't  believe  it  all,  even  now.  It's — it's  wonderful ; 
just  wonderful.  You  believe  me,  don't  you,  Mr. 
District  Attorney?" 

"Yes,  Rushton,  I  think  I  do — now.  I  did  not, 
though,  until  now.  Go  ahead,  Rushton.  Try  it 
out;  and  win  out.  And  don't  thank  me;  thank 
Mr.  Harvard.  I  never  would  have  taken  the 
chance  if  he  hadn't  badgered  me — and  the  Gover- 
nor, too,  for  that  matter — into  it." 

"Well,  sir,  you  take  it  from  me,  he  won't  lose; 
nor  you;  nor  the  Governor.  And  I'll  win.  I 
swear  it!" 

"You  are  beginning  to  make  me  think  that  you 
will,  Rushton,"  the  official  replied,  with  a  kindly 
smile. 

Not  until  Rushton  and  Bingham  Harvard  were 
seated  together  in  the  private  office  of  the  Centrop- 
olis  Bank  did  the  latter  refer  to  the  matter  which 
had  been  the  direct  cause  of  liberating  the  ex-lieu- 
tenant from  prison.  Then  he  related  it  exactly  as 
we  know  it  here,  adding  to  it  that  information  con- 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MAN  69 

cerning  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  Chilton 
from  the  Pullman  stateroom  on  the  Chicago  train. 
Rushton  listened  with  close  attention  to  all  of  it, 
occasionally  interjecting  a  pertinent  question,  mak- 
ing few  notes,  concentrating  his  mind  upon  every- 
thing that  was  told  to  him  in  a  way  that  pleased 
Harvard  very  much  indeed.  It  was  not  at  all  the 
old-time,  blustering,  bullying,  bluffing  Rushton  who 
listened;  it  was  the  Rushton  who,  years  before, 
had  started  out  upon  a  promising  career,  filled  with 
hope  and  alive  with  ambition  to  succeed  in  his 
chosen  calling. 

"I'll  get  him,  Mr.  Harvard,"  he  said  at  the 
finish  of  it;  "and  I  will  get  the  most  of  that  money, 
too.  It's  a  cinch  that  he's  got  it  planted  somewhere 
by  this  time,  and  it's  a  pretty  safe  proposition  that 
he  planted  it  somewhere  in  the  city  of  New  York, 
too." 

"I  am  sorry  that  he  got  away  with  those  pic- 
tures of  himself,"  Harvard  suggested. 

"They  wouldn't  be  any  good  to  me  at  all,"  Rush- 
ton  replied  quickly.  "He  ain't  wearin'  that  hair  and 
beard  any  more;  and  I  guess  a  lot  of  that  tan  on 
his  face  was  artificial — the  same  as  the  gray  hair. 
This  ain't  a  case  where  pictures  would  do  any  good ; 
it's  a  case  for  honest-injun,  straight-from-the- 
shoulder  detective  work — and  I'm  the  guy  that  can 
do  it." 


CHAPTER   IX 

ROLLING  A  CIGARETTE 

Rodney  Rushton  was  a  man  transformed.  And 
Bingham  Harvard  had  given  him  permission  to  see 
Lady  Kate  that  evening,  to  secure  her  approval  of 
what  he  was  to  do  to  redeem  himself.  The  whirl- 
wind events  that  had  entered  his  life  within  a  few 
hours  impressed  him  with  the  force,  and  faith  also, 
of  a  miracle;  for  Rushton  in  his  youth  had  had  a 
mother  who  had  talked  much  of  such  things  into 
his  young  ears.  And  it  was  as  Bingham  Harvard 
had  said  to  him:  his  instincts  were  naturally  good 
ones.  Only  the  environment  of  that  octopuslike 
police  system  of  old  New  York  which  was  the 
growth  of  many  decades,  which  had  been  planted 
and  had  flourished  amazingly  in  the  days  of  Tweed, 
and  which  had  grown  and  spread  unbelievably,  had 
led  him  astray  from  the  paths  of  rectitude  and 
virtue  that  his  mother  had  once  lighted  for  him. 
Many  like  him  have  been  thrust  into  the  mire, 
to  sink  deeper  and  deeper  into  it  with  each  struggle 
to  escape;  and  many  had  gone  down,  never 
to  escape;  some  had  succeeded  in  withdrawing 
(like  his  friend  Lieutenant  Banta,  for  example*)  ; 
and  others,  by  good  fortune  rather  than  by  intent, 
had  escaped  altogether. 

*See  "Alias  the   Night  Wind"   and  "The  Return  of  the 
Night  Wind." 

70 


ROLLING   A    CIGARETTE 71 

Also  it  was  as  Bingham  Harvard  had  said  in 
reference  to  Rushton's  abilities  as  a  detective  of- 
ficer. His  superiors  at  the  central  office  had  for- 
merly acknowledged  that  there  was  none  better; 
and  if,  in  the  past,  he  had  relied  upon  his  intelli- 
gence rather  than  upon  his  shrewdness,  and  had 
stuck  to  honest  methods  rather  than  use  the  ques- 
tionable ones  that  had  offered  themselves  unsought, 
his  name  already  would  have  been  a  household 
word  for  ability.  And  he  was  wise  enough  to 
recognize  the  facts,  without  egotism,  when  he  came 
away  from  the  bank  after  his  interview  with  Har- 
vard in  which  he  had  been  told  the  story  of  the 
coming  and  going  of  Holbrook  Qiilton. 

He  saw  himself  as  others  saw  him — and  he  saw 
it  all,  without  self -apology.  The  days  and  nights 
that  he  had  passed  in  prison  had  tilled  and  enriched 
the  soil  in  which  this  act  of  Harvard's,  aided  by 
the  district  attorney,  had  planted  the  seed  of  re- 
habilitation. 

Rushton  walked  out  of  the  bank,  not  a  new  man, 
but  the  former  man  restored.  His  face  was  illumi- 
nated. His  eyes  shone  with  resolution  and  pur- 
pose. He  had  cast  aside  the  garment  of  shame, 
remorse,  and  reprisal,  as  he  might  have  thrown 
an  old  coat  into  the  dust-heap.  He  looked  at  men 
as  he  passed  them  in  the  street  and  smiled  into, 
their  faces,  conscious  that  he  no  longer  would  have 
reason  to  avert  his  gaze;  and  there  was  a  bound- 
ing sensation  in  his  heart  and  uplift  in  his  soul,  a 
clearness  of  his  moral  vision,  which  made  him 
very,  very  glad. 


He  sought  his  old  home  in  a  house  he  owned 
and  which  had  remained  undisturbed  during  his 
absence.  It  was  in  a  street  east  of  Union  Square. 
Relatives  still  occupied  the  lower  floors,  but  the 
top  one  that  he  had  occupied  remained  as  he  had 
left  it.  When  he  came  forth  later,  dressed  and 
equipped  for  the  campaign  he  was  to  undertake 
(for  he  had  made  several  purchases  on  his  way 
there),  the  erectness  of  his  bearing,  the  spring  in 
his  tread,  the  lofty  impulse  in  his  soul,  lent  to  him 
a  dignity  that  he  had  almost  forgotten  and  which 
he  had  thought  never  to  possess  again :  the  dignity 
that  belongs  with  right-doing. 

There  was  still  much  time  to  kill  before  he  could 
present  himself  at  the  home  of  Bingham  Harvard, 
for  he  had  asked  very  earnestly  for  the  privilege 
to  see  and  talk  with  Lady  Kate  and  to  secure  her 
approval  before  he  should  actually  begin  the  work 
he  was  to  do.  He  occupied  part  of  it  by  a  visit  to 
the  restaurant  and  by  ordering  for  the  first  time 
in  many  months  exactly  the  sort  of  a  meal  he 
wanted;  and  there  was  still  time  to  spare  when  he 
came  out  of  it.  He  sauntered  through  a  side-street 
to_Fifth  Avenue,  turned  north  along  that  thorough- 
fare, and  walked  on  and  on,  sometimes  nodding 
familiarly  toward  certain  towering  buildings  that 
looked  good  to  him,  and  glancing  askance  at  oth- 
ers that  had  sprung  into  being  during  his  absence; 
and  so  he  came,  after  a  time,  to  the  Hotel  Mam- 
moth, 

At  the  entrance  he  halted,  ostensibly  to  light  a 
fresh  cigar,  for  he  was  ever  an  inveterate  smoker; 


ROLLING   A    CIGARETTE 73 

really  to  stand  there  for  a  while  and  to  look  upon 
the  familiar  and  the  unfamiliar  faces  that  passed 
him  going  in  and  out  of  the  great  hostelry.  Be- 
side him,  their  elbows  almost  touching,  was  a  man 
whose  presence  and  nearness  Rushton  did  not  at 
once  notice;  until,  chancing  to  glance  downward, 
he  discovered  the  stranger  in  the  act  of  tearing  a 
yellow  cigarette-paper  from  a  little  book  of  them, 
crease  it  through  the  middle  delicately,  produce  a 
small  pouch  of  embroidered  buckskin  from  which 
he  sprinkled  tobacco  (crushed  and  dried  leaves  of 
the  natural  plant,  Rushton  noticed,  too)  upon  the 
creased  paper,  and  then  deftly  roll  the  combina- 
tion into  a  perfectly- formed  cigarette. 

Rushton  watched  the  man  with  an  abstract  sort 
of  fascination ;  for  while  his  mind  was  wholly  upon 
other  matters,  he  still  took  subconscious  note  of  the 
odd  manner  in  which  the  stranger  rolled  the  paper 
around  the  tobacco.  Also  he  made  the  barely  con- 
scious mental  comment,  characteristic  of  his  habit 
of  close  observation,  that  "the  stranger  was  too 
swell  a  guy  to  be  rolling  his  own  makings."  For 
the  first  time  he  took  note  of  the  stranger's  fea- 
tures. For  a  man  who  was  so  immaculately  and 
perfectly  attired  and  yet  wrn  rolled  cigarettes  with 
all  the  deftness  of  a  cowpuncher,  and  who  per- 
formed the  act  with  lightninglike  swiftness  and  be- 
tween the  second  and  third  fingers  of  his  hands 
instead  of  between  the  thumbs  and  fingers,  inter- 
ested that  sixth  sense  of  Rushton's  which  had  long 
ago  beckoned  him  into  the  police  force  and  had 
developed  him  into  a  detective.  It  was  entirely  a 


74        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

casual  glance  that  Rushton  cast  upon  the  stranger 
who  stood  beside  him.  He  saw  a  man  somewhat 
taller  than  himself,  perfectly  put  together,  splen- 
didly formed  for  athletics,  graceful  of  pose,  dis- 
tinguished of  appearance,  handsome  of  feature, 
with  dark  hair  and  red-brown  eyes  that  were  large 
and  full  and  immoderately  glowing  behind  the 
shell-rimmed  glasses  that  were  worn  over  them. 

The  stranger  inhaled  only  a  few  deep  breaths  of 
smoke  from  the  cigarette  he  had  made.  Then  he 
cast  it  aside  and  did  something  which  the  observing 
Rushton  regarded  as  being  distinctly  more  appro- 
priate. He  produced  a  beautifully  monogrammed 
case  from  one  of  his  pockets,  extracted  a  gold- 
tipped  Egyptian  cigarette  from  among  the  many 
that  it  contained,  and  lighted  that.  And  he  made 
a  wry  face  over  the  first  whiff  of  it  as  he  did  so. 

"He  don't  like  that  kind,  but  he's  tryin'  to  learn 
to,"  was  Rushton's  mental  comment. 

Other  things  attracted  the  former  detective's 
attention.  When  he  turned  again  to  glance  toward 
his  neighbor  the  man  had  disappeared.  Rushton 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  forgot  him,  never 
imagining  that  within  another  hour  or  so  he  was 
to  meet  him  face  to  face  and  be  introduced  to  the 
man  according  to  the  recognized  customs.  But 
the  stranger  had  not  once  turned  his  eyes  upon 
the  former  policeman  who  had  been  standing  so 
near  while  the  cigarette  was  manufactured,  so  it 
was  not  likely  that  the  recognition  would  be  mutual 
when  the  two  should  meet. 

Rushton,  however,  never  forgot  a  face.  He  pos- 
sessed much  the  same  qualities  which  had  given 


ROLLING  A    CIGARETTE  75 

renown  to  one  of  his  former  compatriots  at  head- 
quarters, who  had  been  known  variously  as  "The 
Moniker  Man"  and  "The  Man  with  the  Camera 
Eye"  and  "Second-Sight  Bill."  He  never  forgot  a 
face  that  he  had  once  seen ;  and  invariably  he  could 
remember  when  and  where  he  had  seen  the  face 
also. 

He  looked  at  his  watch  and  discovered  that  he 
would  just  about  use  up  the  necessary  time  if  he 
walked  slowly  from  the  Hotel  Mammoth  to  B ing- 
ham  Harvard's  home,  which  was  located  on  the 
same  avenue  at  some  distance  above  the  Plaza. 
So  he  strolled  forward.  And  ultimately  he  came 
to  Bingham  Harvard's  house,  as  we  shall  see. 

So  did  that  other  man  arrive  there  later;  and 
heralded,  too,  by  a  card  and  a  brief  note  that  he 
had  previously  despatched  to  Bingham  Harvard's 
wife;  to  Lady  Kate,  as  Rushton  always  thought  of 
her.  For  she  had  been  "Lady  Kate  of  the  Police" 
before  she  met  and  wedded  the  man  who  had  won 
the  alias  of  "The  Night  Wind." 

For  Rodney  Rushton  there  remained  only  one 
thing  to  be  attained  now,  that  Harvard  had  be- 
stowed his  confidence,  and  that  was  the  approval 
of  the  act  by  Harvard's  wife ;  by  Lady  Kate.  And 
it  was  with  a  fervent  prayer  in  his  heart  and  soul 
that  Rushton  walked  forward  on  his  quest  to  se- 
cure that  approval,  never  doubting  that  it  would  be 
accorded  him.  And  so  he  came  presently  to  the 
door  of  the  mansion  that  had  once  been  the  home 
of  President  Chester  of  the  Centropolis  Bank,  and 
which  that  same  splendid  old  man  had  bestowed 
upon  the  bride  of  the  man  whom  he  loved  as  a  son. 


CHAPTER    X 
SOME  OF  RUSHTON'S  "DOPE" 

Experts  have  repeatedly  insisted  that  every  man 
possesses  two  characteristics  which  are  impossible 
of  perfect  and  continuous  disguise:  his  voice  and 
his  walk.  It  is  certain,  nevertheless,  that  the  man 
called  Holbrook  Chilton  succeeded  in  accomplish- 
ing both  supposedly  impossible  feats.  We  shall  see 
presently  how  he  did  it. 

The  evening  of  the  day  of  Rodney  Rushton's 
deliverance  from  prison  and  his  assignment  to  the 
case  of  running  down  the  forger,  Chilton,  Bingham 
Harvard  spent  at  home  with  his  wife.  Until  then 
he  had  told  her  nothing  concerning  his  plan  to  give 
the  ex-lieutenant  of  police  a  chance  to  redeem 
himself. 

In  fact,  he  had  not  felt  entirely  assured  that 
Katherine  would  unqualifiedly  approve  of  his 
philanthropic  efforts  concerning  Rushton.  The  ex- 
periences that  she  had  encountered  and  overcome  in 
association  with  him  while  she  was  connected  with 
the  Detective  Bureau  down  at  headquarters  were 
not  calculated  to  predispose  her  in  his  favor. 

There  had  been  a  time,  approximately  three 
years  antedating  the  beginning  of  this  history, 
when,  because  her  father,  who  was  a  prominent 
Kentuckian,  had  insisted  upon  her  marrying  a  man 

76 


SOME   OF   RUSHTON'S   "DOPE"         77 

she  did  not  love,  she  had  left  her  home  in  the  Blue 
Grass  country  and  gone  to  the  great  city  of  New 
York.  Her  father  having  been  a  United  States 
Senator,  and  she  having  spent  much  time  in  Wash- 
ington as  a  girl  and  a  young  woman,  she  found  it 
possible  to  find  the  kind  of  influential  backing  she 
wanted.  With  it  she  had  sought  and  obtained  an 
appointment — on  probation — to  the  detective  bu- 
reau of  the  New  York  police.  As  "Lady  Kate 
of  the  Police"  she  had  made  good;  as  Lady  Kate 
she  had  first  been  brought  in  contact  with  Bingham 
Harvard,  alias  The  Night  Wind,  and  with  Bingham 
Harvard's  true  and  tried  friend,  Tom  Clancy;  and 
with  Lieutenant  Rodney  Rushton,  then  an  active 
and  more  or  less  important  quantity  at  the  Central 
Office.* 

Now  she  had  become  the  wife  of  Harvard  and 
her  police  experiences  were  relegated  to  the  past. 
She  had  settled  down  to  the  young-matronly  pur- 
suits of  a  thoroughly  happy  and  contented  do- 
mestic atmosphere.  But  who  shall  say  that  yearn- 
ings for  the  concentration  and  excitement  of  her 
career  as  an  accredited  detective  did  not  at  times 
possess  her?  They  did.  The  fact  that  she  made 
no  mention  of  them  to  her  husband  was  merely  a 
matter  of  judgment  and  expediency  with  her;  but 
she  found  a  great  deal  to  interest  her  in  keeping 
pretty  close  tabs  upon  the  "doings"  at  police  head- 
quarters, and  in  working  out  mentally  (and  often 
to  her  own  satisfaction)  some  of  the  cases  that 

*  See   "Alias   the   Night   Wind"   and   "The  Return  of  the 
Night  Wind." 


78        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

puzzled  the  authorities.  And  she  had  written 
many  a  letter  of  modest  suggestion  to  the  deputy 
commissioner  and  the  inspector  in  charge  of  the 
bureau. 

Chilton's  masterly  theft  of  three  hundred  and 
ninety-seven  thousand  dollars  did  not,  however,  get 
into  the  newspapers.  It  was  a  closely-guarded 
bank  secret,  following  out  the  suggestions  voiced 
by  Mr.  Anderson  Van  Cleve.  The  regular  police 
were  not  called  into  the  case  at  all.  The  national 
agency,  whose  chief  with  two  operatives  had  been 
summoned  to  the  bank  to  meet  Van  Cleve  and  ex- 
Lieutenant  Rodney  Rushton,  were  the  only  par- 
ties at  work  upon  it;  nor  did  they  work  together. 
Rushton  greatly  preferred  to  work  alone. 

Naturally,  however,  an  announcement  of  his 
parole  from  prison  by  the  Governor  at  the  joint 
request  of  Bingham  Harvard  and  the  district  attor- 
ney, was  printed  and  appeared  in  the  evening  pa- 
pers of  that  day.  There  are  always  newspaper 
reporters  around  the  office  of  the  district  attor- 
ney, and  they  were  not  slow  to  see  and  recognize 
the  ex-lieutenant  and  to  ask  pertinent  questions 
concerning  him.  Lady  Kate  saw  that  announce- 
ment and  questioned  her  husband  about  it  over  the 
dinner-table.  He  related  the  whole  story  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  and  having  a  well-trained  mind, 
she  listened  without  comment  until  he  had  finished. 

"Where,"  she  asked  when  he  had  done,  "did  you 
acquire  your  superlative  confidence  in  the  ability 
of  Rodney  Rushton?" 

"I  have  always  had  it,  Katherine,  ever  since  I 


SOME   OF   RUSHTON'S   "DOPE"         79 

first  knew  the  man,"  Harvard  replied.  "Mr.  Ches- 
ter felt  the  same  way  about  him  up  to  the  time 
when  he  knew  that  Rushton  had  gone  wrong.  You 
may  be  sure  of  that,  else  Rushton  could  never  have 
made  him  believe " 


"Yes,  yes;  I  know,"  she  interrupted.  Then, 
after  a  pause,  she  added  tentatively:  "Sometimes, 
Bing,  I  wish  that  I  were  back  in  the  harness  again. 
I  wish  it  now,  to-night.  I  do,  really.  I  would 
like — nothing  could  give  me  more  genuine  pleasure 
than  to  work  on  this  case  myself" — and  she  looked 
across  the  table  beneath  drooping  lashes  with  a 
glance  that  was  at  once  whimsical  and  appealing. 

"Nonsense,  Kate!"  he  replied. 

"I  mean  it,"  she  said.     "I  do,  really." 

"Possibly  you  would  like  to  assist  Rushton  ?"  her 
husband  suggested  ironically. 

"I  would,"  she  retorted.  "For  one  thing,  I 
would  like  to  determine  for  myself  if  Rushton  is 
to  be  trusted — completely.  I  shall  not  feel  assured 
as  to  that  until  I  have  seen  him  and  talked  with 
him." 

Harvard  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "You  will  have  an  oppor- 
tunity inside  of  an  hour.  He  asked  if  he  might 
drop  in  here  for  a  few  moments  to  pay  his  re- 
spects to  you,  and  I  told  him  he  might.  He  said 
he  wanted  to  start  even  and  that  he  did  not  feel 
as  if  he  could  quite  do  it  without  your  approval." 

Lady  Kate  nodded. 

"That  has  a  good  sound,"  she  remarked.  "The 
impulse  to  come  here  to  see  me  is  reassuring.  All 


80        THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

the  same,  I  am  rather  sorry  that  he  selected  this 
evening." 

"Why?" 

Instead  of  replying  in  words  she  passed  an. 
opened  envelope  across  the  table  to  him,  and  he 
took  from  it  a  card  and  a  short  written  note  which 
he  read  aloud.  It  was  merely  a  request  that  the 
writer  might  be  permitted  to  call  and  pay  his  re- 
spects that  evening,  and  to  renew  a  valued  and 
cherished  acquaintance  of  long  standing. 

"Who  is  Benton  Keese?"  Harvard  asked,  restor- 
ing the  note  and  card  to  the  envelope  and  returning 
it. 

"Did  I  never  tell  you  the  name  of  the  man  whom 
my  father  wanted  me  to  marry?  The  man  who 
was  the  unconscious  cause  of  my  leaving  home 
and  coming  to  New  York  and  becoming  a  police- 
woman?" she  asked  smilingly. 

"No ;  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  it." 

"The  man  was  Benton  Keese;  and  really,  Bing, 
I  think  we  are  under  obligations  to  him — don't 
you?  If  he  had  not  done  as  he  did,  if  he  had  not 
sought  to  influence  my  father  to  coerce  me,  I  would 
not  have  left  home,  I  would  not  have  come  to  New 
York,  I  would  never  have  been  connected  with  the 
police,  and  I  never  would  have  met  you," 

"Oh,  well,  I  don't  blame  him  for  loving  you, 
little  lady.  I  don't  quite  see  how  anybody  can  help 
doing  that.  Poor  devil,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  feel 
sorry  for  him  because  he  lost  you — only  some- 
how, I  don't." 

Soon  after  they  returned  to  the  library   from 


SOME   OF   RUSHTON'S  "DOPE"        81 

dinner  Rushton  was  announced.  He  had  made 
good  use  of  his  time.  He  was  well  and  fashion- 
ably attired,  and  but  for  the  closely  cropped  hair 
he  would  have  borne  little  resemblance  to  the  man 
who  had  been  taken  that  day  to  the  district  attor- 
ney's office  handcuffed  to  an  officer.  There  was 
definite  purpose  in  his  face,  a  new  expression  in 
his  eyes.  Not  a  new  man,  but  the  real  man,  stood 
before  them  in  Rodney  Rushton's  shoes. 

Lady  Kate  stepped  quickly  forward  the  instant 
he  appeared  and  offered  him  her  hand.  He  took  it 
and  held  it  for  a  moment  \vhile  he  searched  his 
mind  for  words  in  which  to  express  the  emotions 
he  felt  because  of  her  reception  of  him. 

"I  guess,  Lady  Ka — Mrs.  Harvard — that  I 
wronged  you  even  worse  than  I  did  him,  when  I 
framed  up  that  crooked  deal  against  the  best  guy 
that  ever  stood  in  shoe-leather,"  he  faltered  lamely. 
"But  I  did  want  to  see  you,  Lady.  I  did  wanta 
hear  you  say  that  you'd  forgiven  me.  That's  why 

I  asked  the  Night  Wi Say;  I'm  makin'  bad 

breaks,  all  right,  ain't  I?  Anyhow,  that's  why  I 
wanted  to  come  here  to-night.  Thank  you  both  for 
lettin'  me." 

"\Yhy,  lieutenant,"  Katherine  replied  instantly, 
"if  you  had  not  worked  that  frame-up,  Mr.  Har- 
vard and  I  might  never  have  known  each  other 
at  all." 

"Say,  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  I  guess,  maybe, 
that's  right,  too.  And  there's  another  thing  that 
wouldn't  have  happened,  either:  I  wouldn't  have 
stood  just  where  I  do  now.  I'd  have  been  the  same 


82       THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

crooked  cop,  graftin'  to  beat  the  band,  framin'  up 
lies  and  other  things  on  innocent  parties,  and 

"Well,  Mrs.  Harvard,  this  guy  that's  talkin'  to 
you  now  ain't  the  same  Rushton  that  you  knew 
downtown;  not  so's  you  could  notice  it." 

"I  believe  that  thoroughly,"  Katherine  replied 
with  feeling. 

"I  have  been  telling  Mrs.  Harvard  about  the 
affair  at  the  bank,  Rushton,"  Bing  remarked,  to 
change  the  subject. 

"Gee,  Lady  Kate There  I  go  again,  call  in' 

you  by  that  name.  But  it  comes  sort  o'  natural, 
you  know.  You'll  have  to  excuse  me  when  I  make 
breaks  like  that." 

"Call  me  Lady  Kate,  if  it  comes  easier.  I  rather 
like  it,"  she  replied.  "What  were  you  about  to 
say?" 

"I  was  goin'  to  say  that  I  couldn't  help  wishin' 
that  you  were  goin'  to  help  on  this  case,  same's 
you  did  on  that  other  one.  Of  course  it's  a  foolish 
wish,  but " 

"Perhaps  not  entirely  foolish.  I  may  be  able 
to  assist.  I  will,  if  I  can — only  the  affair  could  not 
end  as  the  other  one  did;  I  couldn't  marry  the 
criminal,  you  know."  At  which  remark  they  all 
laughed  aloud  happily.  Rushton  turned  to  Bingham 
Harvard. 

"Say,"  he  said,  "I've  been  dopin'  this  thing  out 
in  my  mind  ever  since  we  had  our  confidential  chin 
down  at  the  bank." 

"Well,  what  do  you  make  out  of  your  dope?" 
Harvard  inquired  smilingly. 


SOME    OF    RUSHTON'S   "DOPE"         83 

"That  fellow  Chilton  is  some  slick  article,  Mr. 
Harvard.  He's  smoother  and  slipprier'n  watch- 
maker's oil,  take  it  from  me;  and  he's  got  nerve. 
I'd  lay  my  pile  against  a  brick  medallion  that  he 
ain't  got  no  criminal  record,  and  that  he  has  just 
been  layin'  by  an'  studyin'  out  this  big  play  for 
months,  maybe  for  years.  To  get  Van  Cleve's 
bank-roll,  I  mean;  not  necessarily  to  pinch  it  in 
just  the  manner  he  did  do  it  finally.  He  belongs 
to  that  breed  of  gamblers  that  stake  their  whole 
stack  of  chips  on  a  single  turn  of  the  cards." 

"Very  likely,  Rushton." 

"This  thing  didn't  come  onto  him  sudden.  He'd 
been  thinkin'  of  something  of  the  sort  for  months 
and  months — sure  as  you're  born.  He'd  been  prac- 
ticin'  that  signature  all  the  time,  too.  I've  doped 
it  out  that  he  meant  to  bury  Van  Cleve  somewhere 
down  in  Mexico  and  to  come  here  afterward  and 
pass  himself  off  as  the  dead  man.  And  then  this 
here  opportunity  fell  onto  him  all  of  a  sudden." 

"That  sounds  reasonable,"  Harvard  commented; 
and  Lady  Kate  nodded  her  approval  of  it. 

"Then,  another  thing.  His  disappearin'  from 
that  Pullman  the  way  he  did  couldn't  have  meant 
but  one  thing." 

"What  thing?" 

"That  he  was  comin'  back  here  to  New  York. 
That  heavy  tan  on  his  face  was  painted  on,  I'll  bet 
a  cooky;  and  for  two  reasons;  to  make  him  look 
as  dark  as  a  Mexican  and  to  keep  off  the  real 
tan,  so  that  wrhen  he  got  rid  of  the  paint  and  his 
beard  and  his  long  hair  and  other  identifyin' 


84        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

marks,  his  complexion  would  be  white  enough, 
and  evenly  white  at  that" 

"It  is  your  idea,  then,  that  Chilton  is,  even  now, 
right  here  in  New  York  City?" 

"I'd  bet  on  it  goin'  an'  comin',  and  straight 
across  the  board,  Mr.  Harvard,"  Rushton  replied 
with  emphasis.  "It  wouldn't  surprise  me  none  if 
he  should  have  nerve  enough  to  get  himself  intro- 
duced at  the  bank  under  another  name,  so's  he 
could  open  an  account  with  you.  If  he  ain't  plumb 
full  of  what  you  call  egotism  I  miss  my  target, 
that's  all.  Why,  I " 

The  door  opened.  A  servant  entered  and 
brought  a  card  to  Harvard,  who  announced: 

"It  is  Mr.  Keese,  Katherine.  Bring  the  gentle- 
man here,  Bolton" — to  the  servant.  Then:  "We 
will  change  the  subject  now,  Rushton." 

A  moment  later  Benton  Keese  was  shown  into 
the  library,  and  Rodney  Rushton  caught  his  breath 
and  with  difficulty  withheld  a  violent  start  of  sur- 
prise when  he  saw  the  man.  Benton  Keese  was  the 
man  he  had  seen  in  the  act  of  rolling  a  cigarette 
before  the  entrance  to  the  Hotel  Mammoth! 


CHAPTER    XI 
TOM  CLANCY'S  FOOL  REMARK 

Tall,  clean-cut,  well  built,  smoothly  shaven,  un- 
deniably handsome  and  distinguished  in  appear- 
ance, richly  and  fashionably  attired  in  a  garb  that 
suggested  the  clerical  without  actually  accomplish- 
ing it,  with  tortoise-shell-rimmed  eyeglasses,  large 
and  round,  that  emphasized  the  luster  of  his  brilliant 
brown  eyes,  Benton  Keese  was  an  attractive  figure 
of  a  man  as  he  came  into  the  room  and  bowed 
low  over  the  white  hand  that  Katherine  extended 
to  him  in  greeting.  He  was  entirely  self-possessed ; 
thoroughly  at  ease,  and  he  turned  with  a  graceful 
gesture  to  acknowledge  the  introductions  to  "Mr. 
Harvard,  my  husband,  and  Mr.  Rushton,  a  friend." 

And  Katherine  announced  him  to  them  as  "Mr. 
Benton  Keese,  of  Lexington,  Kentucky — a  friend 
whom  I  have  always  known." 

"You  have  changed  very  little,  Benton/'  Kath- 
erine remarked  when  they  had  resumed  their  chairs, 
and  he  replied  smilingly : 

"Outwardly,  to  the  eye,  perhaps  you  are  right, 
Katherine;  but  inside  of  me — in  my  heart  and 
soul  and  aspirations  and  ambitions  I  feel  that  there 
has  been  a  very  decided  change." 

He  hesitated  an  instant,  and  then  with  glowing 
eyes  added  in  a  tone  that  was  almost  inaudible: 

85 


86        THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"A  very  decided  change  indeed — with  one  excep- 
tion, which  can  never  change." 

Harvard  and  Rushton  did  not — could  not — hear 
that  last  sentence  that  Benton  Keese  uttered.  Ap- 
parently he  did  not  intend  that  they  should  hear  it. 
It  was  intended  for  Katherine's  ears  alone,  and  it 
could  have  but  one  meaning:  that  the  man  who 
made  it  was  as  madly  and  hopelessly  in  love  with 
her  then  as  ever  he  had  been.  Keese  lowered  his 
glistening  eyes  when  he  said  it,  and  he  contrived 
to  express  the  few  words  in  such  a  manner  that 
they  could  convey  no  offense;  nevertheless,  Lady 
Kate  flushed  vividly — but  it  was  with  resentment 
that  he  had  dared  to  say  such  a  thing  to  her;  not 
at  all  because  she  cared  about  what  he  did  say. 

Benton  Keese  had  never  attracted  her.  He  was 
much  older  than  she — ten  years  or  thereabouts. 
And  when  one  is  young,  as  she  had  been  at  the 
time  he  had  forced  his  attentions  upon  her,  ten 
years'  seniority  is  an  aeon  of  time.  She  had  liked 
him — at  a  distance;  had  respected  him  because  he 
was  a  member  of  one  of  the  old  families  of  the 
neighborhood  of  her  birth;  that  was  all.  But  now, 
as  he  raised  his  brown  eyes  again  to  hers  after 
making  that  remark,  a  vague  uneasiness  beset  her. 
She  recalled  that  she  had  fled  from  her  home  to 
avoid  him,  because  something  within  her,  like  a 
sixth  sense,  had  feared  him;  and  now,  of  a  sudden, 
that  indefinable  fear  assailed  her  anew.  She  could 
not  have  told  why;  she  could  not  have  explained 
it.  Indeed,  she  flouted  the  idea  mentally,  yet  all 
the  while  she  was  quite  conscious  that  it  was  there. 


The  pause  between  his  remark  and  Katherine's 
succeeding  question  was  so  short  as  to  be  barely 
noticeable.  The  flush  on  her  face  disappeared  al- 
most as  soon  as  it  came.  Instinctively  she  forced 
her  chair  a  few  inches  farther  away  from  Keese. 

"You  have  been  abroad  somewhere,  have  you 
not?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.  In  China,  mostly.  In  the  interior.  I 
have  just  returned ;  indeed,  I  have  not  been  to 
Kentucky  as  yet,  although  I  have  written  that  I 
am  back.  As  my  manner  of  dress  may  have  partly 
suggested  to  you,  I  have  been  engaged  in  work 
that  was  connected  with  certain  foreign  missions." 

"You  do  not  mean "  she  began;  and  he  inter- 
rupted her  laughingly : 

"Oh,  no,  Katherine!  I  have  not  taken  orders. 
I  went  out  merely  as  an  agent;  a  business  agent 
for  the  consolidated  boards.  But  I  was  informed 
of  your  marriage,  even  though  I  was  at  the  other 
side  of  the  world.  I  hope  you  are  glad  to  see 
me?" 

"I  am — of  course.    Very  glad,  Benton." 

He  bent  nearer  to  her. 

"Do  you  know,  Katherine,"  he  said,  "that  after 
you  disappeared  from  your  home,  and  before  I 
went  away,  I  searched  everywhere  to  find  you,  and 
that  I " 

"We  will  not  refer  to  that  time,  if  you  please," 
she  interrupted  him  coldly.  Then  she  turned  to 
the  others. 

"Bingham,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Keese  has  been  to 
China.  He  has  just  returned."  She  felt  that  it 


88        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

was  time  to  include  her  husband  and  Rushton  in 
the  conversation. 

Whatever  reply  Harvard  might  have  made  was 
interrupted  by  the  opening  of  the  door,  and  Tom 
Clancy  appeared  at  the  threshold. 

"Hello,  everybody,"  he  exclaimed,  advancing. 
Then,  perceiving  Rushton,  he  halted. 

"Well,  by  Jove !"  he  ejaculated.  "I  saw  it  in  the 
paper,  Rushton,  but  I  did  not  believe  it.  That  is 
what  brought  me  here  to-night,  as  a  matter  of 
fact.  So  it's  true,  eh?" 

He  did  not  offer  his  hand  to  the  ex-lieutenant. 
Rushton,  who  had  risen,  stood  very  still,  facing 
him. 

"Shake  hands  with  Mr.  Rushton,  Tom,"  Har- 
vard said  quietly.  "What  you  saw  in  the  paper  is 
quite  true,  and  more  goes  with  it.  Now,  let  me 
present  you  to  Mr.  Keese,  of  Kentucky,  but  more 
recently  from  China;  an  old  friend  of  Kath- 
erine's." 

Tom,  in  his  usual  hearty  manner,  seized  upon 
Keese's  hand  and  shook  it  vigorously;  and,  after 
he  had  done  that,  instead  of  talking  on  in  his  cus- 
tomarily enthusiastic  manner,  he  did  what  for  him 
was  an  unusual  thing.  He  kept  silence.  More,  he 
lifted  the  hand  that  had  greeted  Benton  Keese  and 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  fingers  of  it,  as  if  they 
were  new  to  him.  Then  he  laughed  aloud ;  and  the 
space  of  his  silence  and  abstraction  really  occupied 
less  than  a  second  of  time. 

"That's  some  grip  that  you  brought  home  from 
China  with  you,  Mr.  Keese,"  he  said. 


TOM  CLANCY'S  FOOL   REMARK       89 

"I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Clancy,  if  I  hurt  you,"  Keese 
replied.  "It  was  involuntary." 

"Hurt  me?"  Tom  laughed.  "Not  at  all.  It 
wasn't  that.  But  if  I  didn't  know  better  I  would 
swear  that  I  had  shaken  hands  with  you  before — 
somewhere.  Odd,  isn't  it?  That  is  a  pronounced 
peculiarity  of  mine — remembering  hand-shakes." 

After  that  the  conversation  became  general,  and 
within  the  hour  Benton  Keese  arose  to  take  his 
leave.  Harvard  invited  him  cordially  to  call  again. 
Katherine's  invitation  was  perfunctory  but  lacked 
nothing  of  words.  Clancy  and  Rushton  bowed 
their  adieus  from  across  the  room. 

"Who  and  what  is  he,  anyhow?"  Tom  asked 
when  the  man  had  gone.  "Is  he  a  minister,  a 
mission-worker,  or  a  wire-tapper,  Bing?" 

"He  is  the  man  who  sent  this  little  lady  here  to 
me,"  Harvard  replied,  laughing.  "He  is  the  chap 
she  ran  away  from  when  she  came  to  New  York; 
the  one  her  father  wanted  her  to  marry." 

"It's  a  wonder  that  you  didn't  fall  for  him, 
lady,"  Tom  said,  turning  toward  Katherine  with 
his  humorous  grin.  "There's  no  denying  that  he's 
a  handsome  chap.  Say,  Rushton,  what  is  all  this 
song  and  dance  about  you?  Is  it  a  sure-enough 
reformation?" 

"Mr.  Harvard  has  given  me  my  chance.  I  have 
accepted  it;  that's  all,  Mr.  Clancy,"  the  ex-lieuten- 
ant replied. 

"Bully  for  you!  Say,  I  wonder  if  you  know 
that  I  saved  your  life  once?  That  was  when  Bing 


90        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

was  going  out  to  kill  you  offhand  and  I  wouldn't 
let  him  do  it.  You  owe  me  one  for  that." 

"Tom,"  Harvard  said  quietly,  "Van  Cleve  and  I 
agreed  together  that  the  Chilton  episode  should  re- 
main a  bank  secret.  Chief  Redhead  and  a  few  of 
his  operatives  are  the  only  persons  outside  of  our 
own  circle  who  know  about  it.  But  /  wanted  to  put 
Rushton  on  the  job,  because  I  believe  that  he  is 
the  man  for  it.  The  district  attorney  has  aided 
me,  has  given  him  a  special  appointment,  with 
authority  to  arrest;  and — there  you  are." 

Rushton  started  to  his  feet. 

"And  here  /  am,  too,  when  I  oughta  be  goin'," 
he  exclaimed. 

"I'll  chase  along  with  you,  Rushton,"  Clancy 
said,  rising  also.  "No,  Bing,  thank  you.  I've  got 
another  date.  I  dropped  in  for  a  moment,  any- 
how. 

"Good  night,  Katherine.  I  hope  you  haven't  a 
tender  spot  left  in  your  memory  for  that  chap 
Keese,  eh?" 

"Not  one,  Tom;  nor  the  suggestion  of  one," 
she  smiled  back  at  him. 

"Well,  take  it  from  me,  he  has  got  a  lot  of  'em 
for  you.  Judging  from  his  eyes  and  manner,  by 
what  little  I  saw  of  him,  it's  a  wonder  to  me  that 
he  did  not  seize  you  bodily  and  carry  you  off  when 
you  knew  him  down  there  in  Kentucky." 

"Frankly,  Tom,  I  was  afraid  that  he  would  do 
that  very  thing.  That  is  why  I  ran  away,"  Lady 
Kate  replied;  and  she  spoke  quite  seriously  appar- 
ently. 


TOM   CLANCY'S  FOOL   REMARK       91 

Outside  of  the  house  Clancy  and  Rushton 
walked  in  silence  for  a  time.  Then  Tom  stopped 
in  his  tracks  at  the  corner,  and  addressed  his  com- 
panion abruptly. 

"Rushton,"  he  said,  "I  am  going  to  make  a  fool 
remark  that  hasn't  got  the  slightest  foundation  to 
stand  upon  other  than  a  mere  hand-shake;  but 
everything  'goes  as  it  lays'  just  the  same.  The 
fool  remark  is  this :  That  guy  Keese  is  the  man 
from  Mexico,  or  I'm  a  damn  fool.  If  he  isn't  that 
fellow  Chilton  who  shook  hands  with  me  at  Har- 
vard's bank  and  at  my  own  office,  and  who  got 
away  with  Van  Cleve's  dough,  I'll  crawl  back  into 
my  hole  and  pull  it  in  after  me.  And  there  wasn't 
a  single  thing  about  him  to  suggest  it  but  just  that 
hand-shake  of  his." 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE    SERPENT AND    LADY    KATE 

Tom  Clancy  said  nothing  to  Harvard  of  his  sus- 
picions concerning  Benton  Keese.  The  fact  was 
that  they  were  so  vague,  so  devoid  of  logical  foun- 
dation, so  literally  absurd,  that  he  gave  very  little 
credence  to  them  himself. 

But  Rushton  took  them  more  seriously.  His  of- 
ficial experience  had  taught  him  that  the  "little 
things  that  are  counted  trivial"  are  often  the  finger- 
posts which  point  the  way  to  achievement.  He 
had  noticed  and  had  mentally  commented  upon 
Tom's  attitude  at  the  moment  of  that  hand-shake. 
He  had  wondered  about  it  a  little,  and  here  was 
the  explanation;  and  so  Rushton  decided  that  he 
would  keep  an  eye  upon  Mr.  Benton  Keese  for  a 
time — or  at  least  until  he  could  satisfy  himself 
that  the  man  from  Kentucky  was  everything  that 
he  appeared  to  be. 

It  was  a  coincidence  that  not  long  before  Rush- 
ton's  summary  dismissal  from  the  "force"  the  per- 
formance of  duty  had  taken  him  to  Lexington, 
Kentucky,  to  bring  back  to  New  York  a  prisoner 
who  had  been  arrested  there  and  detained;  and  so 
he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  then  chief 
of  police  of  that  city.  Consequently  as  soon  as  he 

92 


THE  SERPENT— AND  LADY  KATE      93 

parted   with    Clancy   he  filed   a  telegram  to  that 
Southern  official,  as  follows: 

Approximately  three  or  four  years  ago  Benton 
Keese  disappeared  from  your  community.  Where 
did  he  go?  What  became  of  him?  Please  wire 
full  information  you  possess  concerning  him  and 
his  family. 

Before  noon  of  the  following  day  he  received 
this  reply: 

Left  here  three  and  a  half  years  ago,  ostensi- 
bly for  China.  Nothing  known  of  him  since  then. 
Doubtful  if  he  communicated  even  with  members 
of  his  family. 

Both  parents  have  since  died.  Sister  Elizabeth, 
called  Miss  Betty,  twenty-five,  occupies  old  home- 
stead with  maiden  aunt  and  servants.  Property, 
valued  hundred  thousand  or  so,  left  by  will  equally 
to  her  and  B.  K.  Community  believes  him  dead. 
Sister  confident  he  will  return.  He  disappeared 
shortly  after  being  jilted  by  young  woman  when 
reported  about  to  marry. 

No  record  against  him  save  usual  escapades  of 
young  gentlemen  of  his  type,  such  as  poker,  and 
gambling  generally.  Left  no  unpaid  debts. 

COCKRELL, 

Chief  of  Police. 

The  message  was  a  substantiation  of  the  account 
that  Keese  had  given  of  himself,  and  Rushton  took 


94        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

it  to  Clancy,  explaining  what  he  had  done.  Tom's 
comment  was  entirely  characteristic. 

"I  told  you  that  it  was  a  fool  remark  when  I 
made  it,  Rushton,"  he  said.  "Just  because  a  chap 
happened  to  grasp  my  hand  in  a  certain  manner  I 
immediately  associated  him  with  a  forger  and  thief 
with  whom  I  had  shaken  hands  twice  only;  and 
there  was  not  another  single  thing  about  Keese — 
not  one — to  suggest  in  the  remotest  manner  the 
identity  of  the  other  fellow." 

Lady  Kate  harbored  no  misgivings  of  the  kind 
that  impressed  Tom  Clancy  and  Rodney  Rushton; 
but  she  did  feel  others,  although  they  were  of  an 
entirely  different  character.  She  said  not  a  word 
to  her  husband  concerning  them;  but  she  thought 
of  them  that  night  while  she  was  composing  her- 
self to  sleep,  and  again  in  the  morning  after  Bing 
had  left  her  to  go  to  the  bank. 

Keese  had  exerted  an  undeniable  and  altogether 
uncanny  influence  upon  her  ever  since  her  earliest 
recollection  of  him.  But  he  had  been  able  to  im- 
press it  upon  her  only  when  she  was  actually  in 
his  presence.  Away  from  her,  outside  the  house 
or  the  room  where  she  happened  to  be,  he  was  alto- 
gether repugnant  and  repulsive.  And  yet  she  re- 
called that  morning  how  strangely  his  eyes,  his 
low-pitched  voice,  his  deferential  manner,  and  his 
spoken  words,  which  always  seemed  to  convey  a 
double  meaning,  had  always  affected  her.  There 
was  an  indefinable  lure  about  him  that  she  could 
not  avoid,  and  which  she  had  infinitely  dreaded  dur- 
ing the  days  of  her  young  maidenhood  in  Kentucky 


THE  SERPENT— AND  LADY  KATE      95 

— a  lure  from  which  she  had  incontinently  fled,  fear- 
ing with  all  her  heart  and  soul  that  if  she  re- 
mained within  his  environment  she  would  one  day 
succumb  to  it,  that  the  day  might  come  when  she 
would  not  have  the  strength  of  purpose  to  deny 
him.  That  was  before  she  knew  Bingham  Har- 
vard. 

Since  then,  since  the  great  love  for  the  man 
whose  wife  she  had  become  had  filled  her  with 
happiness  and  content,  all  of  the  misgivings  and  all 
of  the  indefinable  fears  engendered  by  the  subtle, 
insidious  influence  that  Benton  Keese  had  impressed 
upon  her  against  her  will  had  been  forgotten — until 
the  moment  when  he  was  actually  before  her  again, 
looking  into  her  secret  soul  (as  it  seemed  to  her) 
with  his  strangely  luminous  eyes,  speaking  to  her  in 
that  oddly  hypnotic  voice,  battering  down  her  re- 
serve with  some  occult  force  which  she  could  neither 
understand  nor  resist,  and  forcing  his  personality 
upon  her  emotions  in  a  way  that  frightened  her 
almost  into  a  panic  when  she  thought  about  it  after- 
ward. It  was  almost  as  if  with  his  eyes  he  stripped 
her  bare  of  her  moral  clothing,  as  if  he  compelled 
her  soul  to  nakedness,  as  if  he  read  and  understood 
her  fear  of  him  and  actually  gloried  in  it,  as  if  he 
were  thoroughly  aware  of  the  Satanic  lure  he  pos- 
sessed for  her.  It  was  as  if  he  knew  that  she  hated 
it — and  him;  and  also  that  she  feared  both  it  and 
him.  It  was,  in  effect,  the  tale  of  the  serpent 
and  the  fluttering  bird  retold  and  humanized. 

In  her  presence  Benton  Keese  at  once  became 


96        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

the  primitive  man,  and  the  very  force  and  master- 
fulness of  him  brought  to  the  surface  of  Kath- 
erine's  consciousness,  resentfully  and  utterly  against 
her  will,  the  primitive,  unstudied,  totally  unknown 
and  uncomprehended  emotions  which  nobody  but 
this  man  had  the  power  to  uncover.  His  big,  softly 
luminous  eyes  seemed  to  possess  arms  and  fingers 
and  muscles  that  could  reach  out  invisibly  and  em- 
brace her,  that  could  hold  her,  that  could  momen- 
tarily quell  her  resentment  and  compel  her  to  return 
his  unspoken  messages  in  kind,  even  though  she 
hated  herself  for  doing  so.  She  could  feel  his 
personality  mentally  embracing  and  holding  her  to 
him  across  the  width  of  a  room,  even  when  he  did 
not  look  at  her;  and  yet  she  could  not  remember 
that  he  had  ever  uttered  a  word  to  her  or  committed 
an  act  against  her  that  she  could  have  resented 
with  spoken  words. 

But  Benton  Keese  did  not  have  to  use  words 
or  to  commit  acts  to  convey  the  messages  that 
radiated  from  his  eyes,  and,  indeed,  from  his  whole 
lithe,  athletic,  and  handsome  physical  presence.  He 
drew  her  forcefully  and  forcibly  as  the  magnet 
draws  a  steel  needle,  and  she  hated  and  feared 
him  most  of  all  whenever  that  almost  irresistible 
attraction  influenced  her. 

Katherine  was  restless  all  that  morning  after  his 
call.  She  wandered  from  room  to  room  in  her 
home — the  home  that  had  once  been  Sterling  Ches- 
ter's, and  which  he  had  given  to  her  as  a  wedding 
present.  She  feared  Keese  might  take  it  upon  him- 
self to  call  again  upon  her  without  announcement, 


THE  SERPENT— AND  LADY  KATE     97 

and  she  gave  orders  that  she  was  "not  at  home" 
to  anybody  that  day. 

Toward  noon  she  considered  seriously  the  idea 
of  going  down  to  the  bank  and  confiding  all  of 
her  doubts  and  misgivings  to  Bingham;  but  dis- 
missed the  thought  almost  as  soon  as  it  was  born. 
Later  she  decided  to  write  a  message  to  Benton 
Keese  in  which  she  could  tell  him  plainly  that  a 
renewal  of  their  old-time  friendly  associations 
would  be  impossible.  Then  she  dismissed  that  de- 
cision, for  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  would 
thoroughly  understand  the  meaning  and  the  mo- 
tives that  were  behind  such  an  act,  and  that  he 
would  gloat  over  it  in  secret.  She  realized  that  it 
would  be,  in  a  sense,  a  confession  of  her  fear  of 
him  and  that  it  would  give  him  an  added  con- 
fidence in  his  uncanny  power  over  her. 

Shortly  after  two  in  the  afternoon  she  went  out. 
She  had  herself  driven  to  Altman's  store,  where 
she  dismissed  the  chauffeur,  saying  that  she  would 
return  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  'bus.  From  Altman's 
she  went  to  Tiffany's  for  a  jewel  that  was  being 
reset  for  her.  When  she  came  outside  again  Ben- 
ton  Keese  was  standing  near  the  entrance  exactly 
as  if  he  had  been  awaiting  her. 

Katherine  flushed,  grew  pale,  and  flushed  again 
when  he  flashed  his  brilliant  eyes  upon  her,  raised 
his  hat,  and  stepped  nearer  to  her  with  extended 
hand  which  she  could  not  ignore. 

"This  is  indeed  a  pleasant  surprise,  Kitten — en- 
countering you  here,"  he  said  in  his  softest  tones. 

"Kitten"    was   a   name   of    childhood   that   had 


98        THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

clung  to  her  throughout  the  neighborhood  of  her 
Kentucky  home.  It  was  quite  natural  that  Keese 
should  make  use  of  it,  although  she  resented  it 
bitterly  even  while  she  smiled  a  reluctant  welcome 
into  his  glowing,  speaking  eyes. 

"I  was  waiting  for  you,  I  think,  although  I  did 
not  know  that  you  were  in  there.  Shall  we  walk 
up  the  avenue?" 

Apparently  he  did  not  expect  a  reply,  or  he  took 
an  affirmative  for  granted;  and  although  she  hated 
herself  for  doing  it,  she  nevertheless  walked  beside 
him  without  question. 

"I  was  passing — just  strolling  down  the  avenue," 
he  added  a  moment  later.  "I  sensed  your  nearness, 
Kitten,  and  I  stopped  and  waited.  And  lo!  in  a 
moment  more  you  appeared.  It  is  quite  wonder- 
ful, isn't  it,  this  telepathic  communication  between 
two  persons  who  happen  to  be  thinking  of  each 
other  at  the  same  moment?" 


CHAPTER   XIII 

TWO  CAN  PLAY  AT  THE  SAME  GAME 

Three  blocks  farther  north,  at  the  corner  of 
Fortieth  Street,  Katherine  stopped. 

"I  shall  take  the  'bus  here,"  she  said  with  deci- 
sion. She  was  angry  with  herself  because  she  had 
permitted  Benton  Keese  to  accompany  her  even 
that  short  distance;  disturbed,  too,  by  the  fact  that 
she  was  aware  of  a  subconscious  pleasure  she  ex- 
perienced because  he  was  beside  her;  and  she  was 
still  considering  abstractly  that  remark  of  his  about 
telepathy.  Was  there — could  there  be  such  a  thing 
as  a  form  of  telepathic  communication  between 
herself  and  this  man? 

The  thought  of  it  was  disquieting.  It  contained 
an  active  menace  against  her  continued  peace  of 
mind.  For  Lady  Kate  knew  that  she  had  been 
thinking  about  Benton  Keese  nearly  all  that  day; 
she  knew  that  her  mind  had  been  more  particularly 
upon  him  since  she  came  downtown — while  she  was 
in  Altaian's,  and  again  on  the  avenue  and  at  Tif- 
fany's. She  had  feared  and  dreaded  just  that  sort 
of  an  encounter  with  him ;  and  behold,  it  had  come 
to  pass.  Was  it  possible,  she  asked  herself,  that 
her  thoughts  of  him  had  drawn  him  inevitably  to 
her  in  spite  of  her  abhorrence  of  the  mysterious 
attraction  ? 

99 


100      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

Her  emotions  concerning  him  were  not  unlike 
that  impulse  which  many  persons  experience  when 
peering  from  a  great  height  into  an  abyss  be- 
neath. 

The  unnatural  cravings  to  leap  off  into  space, 
to  test  the  height,  to  dive  into  the  depths,  to  ex- 
perience the  unknown  emotion  of  falling  through 
limitless  distance  to  the  uttermost  bottom  and  to 
feel  the  shock  of  oblivion  at  the  end  of  it,  were 
clamoring  within  her  consciousness — and  so  also 
was  the  shuddering  horror  of  the  consequences. 
In  metaphor  Katherine  was  actually  poised  upon  a 
pinnacle  above  a  bottomless  abyss  whenever  she 
was  in  propinquity  with  Benton  Keese.  His  fath- 
omless, caressing  eyes  spoke  without  words  the  in- 
vitation to  her  to  make  the  leap.  And  alas!  she 
knew  that  whenever  her  own  gaze  was  inevitably 
drawn  to  meet  his  it  responded.  She  hated  her- 
self for  it,  but  she  could  not  deny  it  nor  quell  it, 
nor  could  she  keep  her  gaze  diverted.  There  was 
something  about  his  nearness  which  forcibly  drew 
to  the  surface  of  her  own  nature  every  elemental 
impulse  of  her  flesh  and  bone  and  blood;  and  it 
was  all  the  more  terrible  in  its  vague  suggestive- 
ness,  because  it  was  so  utterly  mysterious,  so  en- 
tirely unknown,  and  so  foreign  to  every  desire  she 
had  otherwise  or  elsewhere  craved. 

"I  will  ride  with  you,"  he  replied ;  and  Katherine 
could  not  have  told  why  she  found  it  quite  im- 
possible to  deny  him,  save  that  downright  rudeness 
on  her  part  could  alone  have  repulsed  him. 
They  went  inside  the  'bus  and  rode  in  silence  for 


TWO  CAN  PLAY  AT  THE  SAME  GAME     101 

a  time;  then  he  announced,  as  if  there  had  been 
no  hiatus  in  their  conversation: 

"You  will  be  glad  to  see  my  sister  Betty  again, 
of  course.  You  used  to  be  such  great  friends.  I 
telegraphed  to  her  last  night  to  come  here.  At 
noon  to-day  I  received  a  reply.  She  will  arrive  to- 
morrow morning." 

"Oh!"  Katherine  exclaimed  with  genuine  pleas- 
ure. "I  am  glad." 

Then  impulsively,  and  before  she  could  think 
twice  of  the  possible  consequences:  "You  must 
bring  her  directly  to  me,  Benton.  A  hotel  would 
be  no  place  for  her;  but  with  me " 

She  stopped,  confused.  A  partial  realization  of 
the  privileges  which  the  invitation  would  also  ex- 
tend to  the  brother  startled  her.  She  had  intended 
to  find  a  way  to  avoid  him  in  the  future,  to  deny 
him  at  her  home,  but  it  was  too  late  to  do  that. 
The  invitation  was  already  given,  was  already  ac- 
cepted. With  Betty  as  her  guest,  Benton  Keese 
would  quite  naturally  hold  the  open  sesame  to  her 
home. 

They  got  down  from  the  'bus  at  the  corner  near- 
est the  house.  Keese  walked  with  her  to  the  door. 
Then  he  followed  her  inside  without  awaiting  an 
invitation  to  do  so.  He  took  it  for  granted,  ac- 
cepted as  a  privilege  that  belonged  to  him.  He 
made  use  of  the  hospitable  customs  of  the  South, 
and  ignored  the  empty  formalities  of  Northern  eti- 
quette. 

"It  is  kind  of  you,  Kitten,"  he  began;  but  she 
interrupted  him  with  impatience. 


102      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"I  don't  want  you  to  use  that  name,"  she  said 
shortly;  and  he  smiled  and  bowed  his  assurance 
that  he  would  not  offend  again,  adding,  as  if  there 
had  been  no  interruption : 

"Most  considerate  of  you  to  ask  Betty  to  come 
here.  I  will  confess  that  I  had  thought  you  might 
do  so."  He  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  add  that 
he  had  sent  for  his  sister  for  that  express  reason. 

"She  had  never  visited  New  York  when  I  went 
away;  I  doubt  if  she  has  done  so  since.  Perhaps 
I  can  induce  you  to  go  with  me  to  the  station  to 
meet  her  at  ten  to-morrow  morning?" 

"No,"  Katherine  replied  quickly.  "But  I  will  go 
alone  to  meet  her,  if  you  will  defer  your  own  re- 
union till  later." 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  Strangely  enough,  too, 
that  careless  acquiescence  in  an  impulsive  sugges- 
tion was  chiefly  instrumental  in  directing  the  des- 
tinies of  at  least  two  lives  in  being — and  others  yet 
unborn.  Also — although  nobody  even  dreamed  of 
such  a  thing — it  provided  the  first  step  in  the  ulti- 
mate success  of  Rodney  Rushton's  effort  to  "make 
good." 

Benton  Keese  was  far  too  wise  to  linger  in  Lady 
Kate's  presence  that  afternoon.  He  rose  to  take 
his  leave  as  soon  as  Betty's  reception  and  entertain- 
ment at  Katherine's  home  was  arranged.  Kate 
gave  him  her  hand  in  parting  when  he  put  out  his 
own,  and  he  held  it  rather  longer  than  was  nec- 
essary— not  forcibly,  but  with  a  warm  pressure 
which  for  some  unknown  reason  she  found  irre- 
sistible. It  was  neither  offensive  nor  suggestive, 


TWO  CAN  PLAY  AT  THE  SAME  GAME     105 

and  yet  it  set  her  hand  and  arm  to  tingling,  and 
her  pulse  a-throbbing,  so  that  she  started  away 
from  him  and  turned  her  head  to  hide  the  flush 
that  she  knew  had  swept  into  her  face. 

"Dear  little  playmate,"  he  said  softly,  as  if  to 
himself;  and  turned  and  went  swiftly  from  the 
room. 

Lady  Kate  stood  quite  still  after  he  had  gone, 
a  frown  between  her  eyes,  her  lips  in  a  tightly 
drawn  line  of  self-derision.  Then  she  crossed  the 
room  and  stood  before  a  mirror  that  gave  back 
a  full-length  reflection  of  herself. 

"What  is  it?  What  can  it  be  within  me  that 
responds  so  riotously  to  Benton  Keese's  lightest 
word  or  touch  when  I  know  deep  down  in  my 
heart  of  hearts  that  I  loathe  and  despise  and  hate 
him,  as  I  have  always  done  since  my  earliest  recol- 
lection?" she  asked  of  her  own  image  mentally. 

"Why  am  I,  who  have  never  known  fear  of  any 
other,  horribly  afraid  of  this  one  man?  And  what 
is  it  about  him  that  I  fear?" 

She  turned  from  the  mirror  without  attempting 
an  answer  to  any  of  her  unspoken  questions,  and 
with  her  hand  at  the  knob  of  the  door  she  stopped 
again.  This  time  she  murmured  spoken  words, 
scarcely  aloud,  but  audible  to  herself. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  "it  is  not  the  man  I  fear; 
it  is  myself.  And — I  will  be  afraid  no  more." 

Benton  Keese,  strolling  leisurely  down  the  ave- 
nue, gazed  complacently  toward  the  green  foliage 
of  the  park,  and  told  himself  unctuously,  if  men- 
tally: 


104      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"If  I  had  persevered  in  my  effort  to  find  her  she 
would  never  have  married  Bingham  Harvard.  She 
would  have  fluttered  into  my  arms  like  a  bird. 

"But — it  would  not  have  sufficed  then.  I  was 
poor — rotten  poor — then.  Now  I  am  rich.  And," 
he  chuckled  audibly,  "it  is  never  too  late  to  mend. 
Never!  Perhaps — who  knows? — perhaps " 

His  mental  commentary  stopped  at  that  point, 
but  the  perspective,  thinly  veiled  from  his  egoistic 
vision,  was,  at  the  least,  not  at  all  disturbing. 

Somewhat  farther  down  the  avenue  Keese,  al- 
though he  was  walking  slowly,  overtook  and  was 
in  the  act  of  passing  another  pedestrian  who 
seemed  to  be  in  even  less  haste  than  himself;  but 
having  a  quick  eye  and  being  by  nature  discern- 
ing, he  recognized  the  broad  shoulders  and  the  back 
of  the  other  man  even  before  he  had  advanced  far 
enough  to  observe  the  profile. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Rushton?"  Keese  inquired 
blandly  and  in  his  softest  tones.  He  really  pos- 
sessed a  wonderfully  attractive  voice.  Rushton 
gave  a  start  of  well-assumed  surprise. 

"Why— hello!"  he  returned.  "You  are— er— 

mister Names  always  get  my  goat,  somehow ; 

but  I  met  you  last  evening  at  Mr.  Harvard's.  Glad 
to  see  you  again. 

"Ah !  Now  I  have  it.  You  are  Mr.  Keese,  from 
Kentucky." 

"Quite  right,  Mr.  Rushton.  Fine  day,  isn't  it? 
You  reside  in  this  neighborhood,  I  assume." 

"Me!  Not  so's  you  could  notice  it,  Mr.  Keese. 
My  income  wouldn't  stand  the  strain  of  livin' 


TWO  CAN  PLAY  AT  THE  SAME  GAME     105 

around  here.  But  I've  got  friends  who  do.  Say! 
After  bein'  in  China  two  'r  three  V  more  years, 
it  must  seem  kinda  good  to  you  to  hit  the  pave- 
ments of  little  old  New  York  again.  Huh?" 

"It  certainly  does,  although  I  must  confess  that 
I  never  knew  very  much  about  this  city  of  yours." 

Thus  they  chatted  idly  together  until  Fifty-ninth 
Street  was  reached,  where  Rushton  uttered  a  hasty 
word  of  parting  and  boarded  a  west-bound  car. 

Benton  Keese  stood  for  some  time  at  the  curb 
on  the  corner  gazing  after  the  blue  car  that  was 
bearing  Rushton  away.  His  eyes  were  narrowed; 
they  would  have  impressed  an  observer  as  being 
introspective,  rather  than  interested  in  the  moving 
car  and  its  latest  passenger.  But  presently  they 
resumed  their  normal  fullness  and  softness  behind 
the  round,  shell-rimmed  glasses,  and  a  slow  smile 
showed  at  the  corners  of  his  mobile  lips. 

"That  chap  was  watching  me.  I  wonder  why?" 
was  his  mental  comment  as  he  crossed  the  street 
and  entered  the  Savoy,  where  he  sought  the  cafe. 
He  ordered  a  toddy,  which  he  sipped  slowly  while 
he  thought  on : 

"He  wears  the  earmarks,  or  the  hallmarks,  of 
a  typical  New  York  cop;  and  that  hair-cut  looks 
to  me  like  it  was  done  without  his  asking  for  it  and 
without  cost  to  him  either." 

Keese  paid  for  his  drink,  called  a  taxi,  and  had 
himself  driven  to  the  Hotel  Mammoth,  where  he 
occupied  a  suite  of  rooms.  From  the  suite  he  made 
use  of  the  telephone  and  called  a  number  that  was 
printed  on  a  card  that  he  took  from  one  of  his 


106      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

pockets — the  card  of  a  somewhat  obscure  detective 
agency  which  (whether  Keese  was  aware  of  it 
or  not)  was  none  too  particular  about  the  charac- 
ter of  its  investigations. 

Within  half  an  hour  another  card  was  taken  to 
him.  It  bore  merely  the  written  inscription :  "Mr. 
Roland."  But  inasmuch  as  that  other  card  from 
which  he  had  taken  the  telephone  number  was  in- 
scribed with  the  name  of -"The  Roland  Detective 
Agency,"  it  may  be  surmised  who  the  dapper  little 
man  was  that  was  presently  admitted  to  Suite  777. 

"Be  seated,  Mr.  Roland,"  Keese  said,  indicating 
a  chair.  "I  assume  that  you  are  at  the  head  of  the 
detective  agency  that  has  been  so  highly  recom- 
mended to  me?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  am  Mr.  Dudley  Roland.  I  am 
the  proprietor  and  the  general  manager  of  the 
agency;  and  I  may  say  that " 

"Never  mind  your  assurances  of  excellence. 
You  shall  have  an  opportunity  to  establish  that.  I 
shall  probably  require  more  or  less  service  from 
you  for  a  few  weeks.  Just  now  I  want  some  quick 
information  which  I  have  no  doubt  you  already 
possess. 

"Has  there  been,  within  your  recollection,  a  man 
connected  with  the  New  York  police  whose  name 
was  Rodney  Rushton?  I  want  all  the  information 
concerning  him  that  you  may  happen  now  to  pos- 
sess." 

"Yes,  sir.  He  was  a  detective-lieutenant  at  the 
headquarters  bureau  until  about  two  years  ago. 
Then  they  got  something  'on'  him  and  he  was 


TWO  CAN  PLAY  AT  THE  SAME  GAME     107 

dumped.  He  was  mixed  up  in  the  robbery  of  a 
bank " 

"What  bank?" 

"The  Centropolis." 

"Oh.     Well,  what  more?" 

"He  was  indicted,  tried,  convicted,  sent  to  prison, 
and  served  nearly  two  years  of  a  long  sentence. 
Only  the  other  day  he  was  released  on  parole.  If 
you  had  been  reading  the  papers  you  wouldn't  have 
had  to  ask  me  about  it,  Mr.  Keese." 

"Never  mind  that.  What  more  is  there  to  tell 
me?" 

"If  you  should  ask  me  why  he  was  released  on 
parole,  or  what  is  expected  of  him  in  return  for  it, 
I'd  have  to  tell  you  frankly  that  I  can't  even  guess 
at  the  reason.  Only  it  strikes  me  as  a  bit  funny 
all  around,  because  the  man  who  was  behind  it  was 
the  very  man  that  Rushton  had  wronged  the  most. 
It  was  he — Harvard  is  his  name;  he  used  to  be 
called  the  Night  Wind,  but  I'll  tell  you  about  that 
later — who  interested  the  district  attorney  in  the 
matter,  and  so  got  Rushton  out." 

"So.     I  see,"  Keese  meditated  aloud. 

"Well,  Mr.  Dudley  Roland,  I  will  give  you  three 
days  in  which  to  find  out  for  me  the  true  reason 
why  Rodney  Rushton  was  paroled  from  prison, 
and  why  the  district  attorney  deemed  it  wise  to 
recommend  such  an  act.  Do  you  think  you  can 
do  it?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  think  I  can,"  was  the  confident 
reply. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

SHE    CAME    FROM    OLD    KENTUCKY 

Katherine  in  passing  through  the  Pennsylvania 
Station  just  before  ten  o'clock  next  morning  met 
Tom  Clancy,  who  was  hurrying  in  the  opposite 
direction.  He  stopped,  however,  and  shook  hands 
with  her,  hat  in  hand,  while  he  explained  that  he 
had  gone  to  the  station  to  see  a  friend  off  who  was 
o  be  a  long  time  absent,  that  he  was  already  far 
jverdue  at  his  office;  and  all  in  the  same  breath 
demanded  in  his  usual  impetuous  way  what  it  could 
be  that  had  taken  her  there  at  that  hour  of  the 
morning. 

"I  won't  tell  you,  but  I  will  show  you,  Tom," 
she  replied  mischievously.  "That  is,  if  the  multi- 
tude of  affairs  at  your  office  can  stand  the  strain 
of  waiting  another  half  hour  upon  your  arrival 
there." 

"Huh!"  said  Tom;  and  turned  about  to  return 
with  her.  "I  don't  think  any  cataclysms  would 
happen  if  I  should  not  show  up  down  there  at  all. 
I  assume,  from  your  manner,  that  you  are  here  to 
meet  somebody.  Eh?" 

She  nodded.  "Quite  the  prettiest  girl  I  ever 
knew,"  she  assured  him. 

"I  don't  like  'pretty'  girls,"  he  told  her. 

"The  most  beautiful,  then." 
108 


SHE  CAME  FROM  OLD  KENTUCKY    109 

"That  sounds  better;  but- 


"And  altogether  the  most  charming,  fascinating, 
alluring,  puzzling,  inviting — and  elusive  creature  I 
can  imagine." 

"Then  my  business  can  go  hang,"  Tom  an- 
nounced with  decision.  "With  all  of  those  pro- 
nouncements tagged  upon  her  your  expected  friend 
must  be  a  wonder.  Who  is  she?" 

"Wait  until  you  have  seen  her,"  was  the  enig- 
matical reply. 

The  expected  train  was  on  time,  and  presently 
Tom  Clancy  saw  a  vision  of  loveliness  that  would 
have  made  him  gasp  with  pleased  astonishment 
anywhere  rush  into  the  embrace  of  Lady  Kate  and 
cling  to  her  with  affectionate  enthusiasm.  A  steady 
flow  of  the  softest  and  most  entrancing  Southern 
exclamations  of  pleasure  and  endearment  that  he 
had  ever  heard  rippled  from  the  lips  of  the  girl. 

"I  certainly  am  right  glad  to  see  you,  Kittie, 
dear,"  was  one  of  the  many  things  that  Tom  over- 
heard while  he  awaited  an  opportunity  to  be  intro- 
duced. 

"Ben  telegraphed  to  me  that  you  would  meet 
me  at  the  station  and  that  you  meant  to  take  me 
home  with  you  so  that  I  wouldn't  have  to  go  to  a 
horrid  hotel." 

Miss  Betty's  words  flowed  on  in  her  eagerness 
and  delignt,  each  sentence  ending  in  that  exquisite 
and  inimitable  drawl  which  must  be  born  with  the 
tongue  and  can  never  be  acquired  by  an  outsider. 
But  there  did  come  a  pause  even  in  the  mutual  en- 
thusiasm of  the  two  girls — for  Katherine  was  as 


much  the  girl  as  Betty  and  the  affection  between 
them  had  always  been  very  genuine  and  deep — and 
the  opportunity  for  which  Clancy  was  waiting 
came. 

"Tom,"  Katherine  said,  disengaging  herself,  "I 
want  to  present  you  to  Miss  Betty  Keese.  She 
is  my  dearest  friend.  We  were  playmates  in  child- 
hood, schoolmates  in  girlhood,  and  chums  ever 
since  either  of  us  can  remember. 

"Betty,  this  is  Mr.  Clancy.  He  stands  in  just 
about  the  same  relation  to  my  husband  that  you  do 
to  me.  And  I  do  so  want  you  two  to  be  good 
friends." 

"It's  up  to  Miss  Keese,  then,"  Tom  replied,  with 
his  inimitable  and  engaging  smile.  "I  am  captive 
already." 

Betty  smiled  delightfully — entrancingly,  Tom 
thought — as  she  put  her  small,  gloved  hand  into 
Clancy's.  Her  seal-brown  eyes  sparkled,  and  the 
dimples  that  showed  in  her  cheeks  seemed  almost 
to  possess  eyes  of  their  own,  they  were  so  fasci- 
natingly alluring. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  that  we  will  be  good  friends," 
she  assured  them  both,  dimpling  and  smiling  even 
more  brightly.  "I  can  see  that  you  like  Mr.  Clancy 
immensely,  Kittie,  and  that  is  all  the  recommenda- 
tion /  need. 

"Where  is  Benton?  Isn't  he  here  to  meet  me, 
too?" 

The  question  came  like  something  of  a  shock  to 
Tom.  He  had  heard  the  name  of  Keese  when  Betty 
was  introduced,  and  he  had  repeated  it ;  but  he  had 


SHE  CAME  FROM  OLD  KENTUCKY    111 

not,  for  some  unknown  reason,  associated  it  with 
the  Benton  Keese  whom  he  had  met  at  Bingham 
Harvard's  house — and  whom,  he  suddenly  remem- 
bered, he  had  instinctively  distrusted  and  disliked. 
Looking  upon  her  again  as  she  turned  once  more 
toward  Katherine  and  admiring  her  personal  charm, 
her  lithe,  small  figure,  and  her  perfect  features 
more  gravely  and  critically  than  he  had  done  at 
first,  he  discovered  instantly  the  unmistakable 
likeness  she  bore  to  her  handsome  brother. 

"Whatever  the  brother  may  prove  to  be,  there 
is  no  doubt  about  the  physical  and  spiritual  loveli- 
ness of  the  sister,"  was  his  mental  comment. 

•And  when,  later  he  undertook  to  analyze  the 
actual  estimate  in  which  he  held  Benton  Keese,  he 
did  that  person  as  well  as  himself  the  justice  to 
admit  (to  himself)  that  there  was  no  plausible  rea- 
son why  he  should  not  regard  Miss  Betty's  brother 
with  the  utmost  friendliness. 

"Tom,"  Katherine  asked,  when  the  three  were 
walking  through  the  station  toward  the  street,  "do 
you  remember  that  you  once  asked  me  if  I  had  a 
sister  to  whom  you  might  be  properly  presented?" 

"Perfectly,"  he  replied,  nodding  and  smiling. 
And  he  added  coolly:  "I  also  remember  why  I 
asked  you.  It  was  because  Bing  found  you  first — 

and  I  thought,  possibly,  if  you  did  have  a  sister 

Words  fail  me,  Katherine." 

Lady  Kate  laughed  outright  and  frankly.  Betty 
shot  a  glance  of  mischief  from  the  corners  of  her 
eyes  at  Tom,  and  Lady  Kate  continued : 

"Behold  her,  Thomas  Clancy.    For  in  everything 


THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

save  the  tie  of  blood,  Betty  and  I  are  sisters  in- 
deed; and — there  is  Julius  with  the  car.  Hurry  to 
your  business,  Tom,  and  come  to  dinner  with  us 
this  evening." 

"By  Jove!"  Clancy  commented  to  himself  after 
they  were  driven  away.  "By  Jove!"  he  muttered 
again  as  he  hurried  toward  the  "L"  station  at 
Thirty-third  street.  "By  Jove!"  he  repeated  aloud 
inside  the  car. 

And  presently  an  acquaintance  who  happened  to 
be  seated  opposite  stepped  across  the  car  and 
dropped  down  upon  a  seat  beside  him  that  had  just 
been  vacated. 

"Hello,  Tom!"  he  said  laughing.  "This  is  the 
first  time  I  knew  that  you  had  ever  been  'make-up' 
editor  on  a  newspaper.  When  was  it?  How  long 
ago  was  it?" 

"What's  the  answer?"  Clancy  inquired,  shaking 
hands. 

"You  are  reading  your  morning  paper  upside 
down.  Only  make-up  men  do  that." 

"Oh!  I  see.  That's  so.  Well,  you  see,  I  have 
just  been  sort  of  turned  upside  down  myself — and 
I  suppose  that  accounts  for  it." 

Inside  of  the  automobile  that  had  taken  the  two 
young  women  from  the  station  and  at  approxi- 
mately the  same  time  Katherine  was  asking: 

"Well,  Betty,  don't  you  think  he's  nice?" 

"I  certainly  do,  Kittie — that  is,  if  you  happen 
to  mean  Mr.  Clancy,"  the  Kentucky  girl  replied 
frankly.  "If  your  Northern  men  are  all  like  him 
— well,  I  shall  just  naturally  fall  in  love  with  all 


SHE  CAME  FROM  OLD  KENTUCKY    113 

of  them.  But  you  might  have  waited  until  I  had 
really  arrived  and  had  had  an  opportunity  to  make 
myself  a  little  more  presentable  before  you  tried 
to  throw  me  right  at  him." 

"Oh,  I  did  not  invite  Tom  Clancy  to  be  present, 
Betty.  I  shouldn't  have  permitted  you  to  see  each 
other  for  at  least  a  week  if  I  had  had  my  own  way 
about  it.  He  was  just  there,  that's  all." 

"He  isn't  exactly  what  you  might  call  hand- 
some," Betty  commented  mischievously,  after  a 
pause.  "His  hair  is  almost  red ;  he  has  got  a  turn- 
up nose,  and  he  wears  freckles,  and " 

"But,  dear,  did  you  ever  see  more  beautiful 
teeth  in  a  man's  head?  and  such  straightforward, 
earnest  eyes — when  they're  not  twinkling?  And 
such  shoulders?  and — and — and " 

"It's  a  wonder  that  he  didn't  get  you,  Kittie, 
instead  of  the  man  who  did,"  Betty  broke  in  when 
words  failed  Katherine;  and  she  added,  without 
waiting  for  comment  upon  what  she  had  said: 

"You  never  did  get  over  your  aversion  for  Ben- 
ton,  did  you?  Poor  Benton!  Why  every  girl  in 
four  counties — Bourbon,  Fayette,  Scott  and  Har- 
rison— would  have  given  up  their  eye-teeth  to  get 
him,  the  only  one  that  he  really  wanted  just  plain, 
sure-enough,  ran  away  from  him  without  so  much 
as  saying  good-by.  Do  you  know,  Kittie,  that 
there  were  heaps  of  times  when  I  came  mighty 
near  to  breaking  my  word  with  you  and  telling 
Benton  where  you  were.  Yes,  indeed." 

"But  you  did  not  do  it,  Betty." 

"No,  dear.     And  I  am  glad — now;  for  one  has 


114      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

only  to  look  at  you  to  see  that  you  are  perfectly 
happy." 

"I  am.  Yes,  indeed,  I  am.  I  have  got  the  best 
husband,  and  the  handsomest,  and  the " 

"I  know  all  the  rest  of  it,  dear,  and  I  don't 
doubt  any  of  it;  not  in  the  least.  But  all  the  same, 
Kittie,  I  have  got  one  bit  of  right  good  advice  to 
give  you." 

"What  is  it?"  Katherine  asked,  without  turning 
her  head,  keeping  her  eyes  directed  toward  the 
street. 

"It's  this:  I  don't  believe  that  Benton  has 
changed  a  bit,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned.  He 
went  away  not  very  long  after  you  disappeared, 
and  I  have  not  set  my  eyes  upon  him  in  all  the 
time  since  then.  But  I  know  that  he  was  just  mad 
about  you,  dear;  and — I  know  Benton  Keese,  my 
brother  though  he  is." 

"That  is  not  advice." 

"No;  it's  a  statement — with  this  much  added: 
He  wants  you  right  now  just  as  much  as  he  ever 
wanted  you.  Benton  did  not  ask  me  to  come  here 
because  he  cared  a  picayune  about  my  pleasure. 
He  sent  for  me  because  he  knew  that  when  he  told 
you  he  had  done  so  you  would  immediately  invite 
me  to  go  to  your  home ;  and  if  /  am  there,  of  course 
he  can  drop  in  at  any  old  time  he  wants  to,  with- 
out regard  to  conventions.  I  am  the  catspaw;  you 
are  the  chestnut,  and  your  home  is  the  fire  that 
you're  to  be  pulled  out  of— or  I  don't  know  my 
own  fascinating,  handsome,  accomplished,  and  sub- 
tle brother." 


SHE  CAME  FROM  OLD  KENTUCKY    115 

"Nonsense,  Betty,"  Katherine  exclaimed,  but 
there  was  little  mirth  in  the  laughter.  She  felt  an 
odd  shiver  of  apprehension  as  the  result  of  the 
outspoken  comment  of  her  friend.  "I  haven't 
heard  the  advice  even  yet,  dear." 

"I'll  give  it  to  you  in  five  words :  send  me  to  a 
hotel." 

"Why,  Betty  Keese " 

"Oh,  I  know  you  won't  do  it,  but  you  should, 
all  the  same.  You  just  cannot  shut  your  door 
against  Ben  when  I  am  there,  but  you  should  do 
so,  all  the  same.  You  cannot  avoid  giving  him  op- 
portunities to  make  love  to  you  as  long  as  he  can 
come  and  go  as  he  pleases;  and  you  can  take  my 
word  for  it  that  he  will  make  love  to  you  every 
time  that  he  has  the  merest  ghost  of  a  chance." 

"Betty,  if  he  should  dare  to  attempt  such  a 
thing " 

"Kittie,  dear,"  the  Kentucky  girl  interrupted 
hastily,  "don't  you  know  that  he  won't  make  love 
to  you  as  other  men  would  do  it?  Don't  you 
know  how  subtle  he  is?  Don't  you  know  that  he 
will  never  say  or  do  a  thing  to  offend  you  or  to 
which  you  can  take  offense? 

"Have  you  ever  noticed  a  dog  when  it  plays  with 
a  stick  in  its  master's  hand,  and  how  the  dog 
will  keep  right  on  seizing  the  stick  a  little  bit  higher 
up  and  nearer  to  the  hand  that  plays  with  it,  every 
chance  it  gets?" 

"Elizabeth  Keese,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself  to  talk  about  your  brother  in  such  a  man- 


116      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

ner,  and  about  me,  too !"  Katharine  exclaimed,  dis- 
turbed and  half  in  anger. 

"Dear,"  Betty  replied  soberly,  "I  love  my  brother 
with  all  my  heart,  but  I  love  you  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul,  too. 

"Why,  Kittie,  he  fascinates  even  me,  his  sister, 
when  I  am  beside  him.  He  is  dangerous;  he  is 
subtle ;  he  is  deep  and  patient.  And  he  knows  how 
to  wait — and  how  .to  win  by  waiting.  I  have 
learned  several  things  about  him  since  he  went  away 
from  home  that  I  did  not  know  before.  And  I 
know  that  he  is  a  dangerous  friend  for  a  woman 
to  have.  I  know,  too,  that  I  am  very  glad  indeed 
that  you  did  not  marry  him!" 


CHAPTER    XV 

AN    IMPORTANT    SNAPSHOT 

There  was  a  consultation  at  the  Centropolis 
Bank,  held  immediately  after  banking  hours  on  the 
ninth  day  after  the  arrival  in  New  York  of  the 
real  Anderson  Van  Cleve ;  that  is  to  say,  on  a  Mon- 
day. It  was  also  the  eleventh  day  after  the  first 
appearance  of  Holbrook  Chilton,  who  had  repre- 
sented himself  to  be  Van  Cleve;  it  was  the  fifth 
day  after  Rushton's  rehabilitation  as  a  man.  There- 
fore, in  order  to  keep  our  chronology  of  events 
correctly  in  mind,  it  was  the  third  day  after  the 
advent  of  Betty  Keese  and  her  installation  as  a 
welcome  and  beloved  guest  in  the  home  of  Bingham 
Harvard  and  Lady  Kate. 

There  were  present  at  the  conference  Anderson 
Van  Cleve,  Tom  Clancy,  Rushton,  the  red-haired 
chief  of  the  National  Detective  Agency  which  han- 
dled the  bank's  affairs,  his  two  operatives  who  had 
gone  there  with  him  that  day  of  Van  Cleve's  ar- 
rival in  the  city,  and  of  course  Bingham  Harvard 
himself.  Also,  in  response  to  her  own  earnest  re- 
quest (one  might  almost  call  it  insistence)  made 
to  her  husband  as  soon  as  she  knew  that  the  con- 
sultation was  to  take  place,  Lady  Kate  was  there. 

The  meeting  was  held  in  the  directors'  room.  It 
117 


118      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

was  entirely  an  informal  affair;  almost  an  im- 
promptu one,  in  fact,  and  it  had  come  about  chiefly 
because  of  a  suggestion  of  {Catherine's  that  she  had 
made  to  Bingham  the  preceding  evening.  He  had 
summoned  the  others  by  telephone.  Clancy  was  the 
last  of  the  lot  to  arrive,  and  he  crossed  immediately 
to  Lady  Kate  and  dropped  upon  a  chair  beside  her, 
his  face  and  eyes  beaming  as  he  demanded,  sotto 
voce: 

"How  is  Miss  Betty?  And  where  is  she?  And 
why  is  she  not  here  with  you,  Katherine?" 

Lady  Kate  replied  demurely  and  with  exactness, 
but  nevertheless  with  twinkling  eyes : 

"Betty  is  quite  well.  She  is  motoring  with  her 
brother,  I  believe.  She  is  not  here  for  the  very 
good  reason  that  she  was  not  wanted — inasmuch 
as  the  reason  for  this  conference  is  supposed  to  be 
a  secret." 

"Huh !"  said  Tom.  Then :  "Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me,  my  lady,  that  you  and  Miss  Betty  Keese  of 
Kentucky  have  spent  more  than  three  whole  days 
together  and  that  you  have  not  told  her  all  about 
'that  dreadful  thing  that  happened  down  at  Bing's 
Bank'?" 

"I  do  not  tell  everybody  quite  all  I  know,  Tom," 
Katherine  retorted  with  dignity,  recognizing  the 
innuendo  that  women  tell  all  their  secrets  to  their 
best  friends,  "in  confidence." 

"Honestly,  now,  Katherine,"  he  teased,  "didn't 
you  tell  Miss  Betty — strictly  in  confidence,  of  course 
— that  you  could  not  go  motoring  with  her  and  her 
charming  brother  this  afternoon  because  you  had 


AN  IMPORTANT  SNAPSHOT         119 

promised  to  meet  Bingham  at  the  bank  precisely  at 
four  o'clock?  Answer  me  that?" 

"Tom  Clancy,  I  believe  you  have  been  talking  to 
Betty  over  the  telephone!" 

"I  have.  I  wanted  her  to  go  motoring  with 
muh;  and  you  were  not  included  in  the  invitation, 
either.  I  was  intending  to  shy  this  meeting,  shame- 
lessly; to  pretend  that  I  had  made  the  engagement 
before  I  received  the  message  to  come  here,  and 
all  that.  See?" 

"It  serves  you  right,  then,  that  she  could  not  go 
with  you." 

"Maybe  so.     Anyhow " 

"Hush.  Let  us  hear  what  Mr.  Van  Cleve  has 
to  tell  us,"  Katherine  interrupted. 

"I  have  told  several  of  those  present  individually 
practically  all  that  I  have  now  to  say  in  regard  to 
the  man  Holbrook  Chilton,  who  came  to  this  bank 
one  week  ago  last  Thursday  and  succeeded  in  pass- 
ing himself  into  the  confidence  of  Mr.  Harvard  in 
my  name,"  Van  Cleve  began. 

"For  the  general  benefit  of  all  who  are  here, 
I  will  now  refer  to  him  as  follows : 

"During  the  few  years  that  he  was  in  my  em- 
ploy in  Mexico  I  never  once  had  occasion  to  doubt 
his  honesty;  and  yet  always,  instinctively  or  intui- 
tively, I  did  doubt  the  man.  That  statement  is,  of 
course,  paradoxical.  I  doubt  if  I  can  explain  it  ade- 
quately. But  always  during  our  business  relations, 
after  he  had  left  me  at  such  times  as  we  had  been 
discussing  my  affairs,  certain  little  things  concern- 
ing his  attitude  and  manner  toward  me  left  an  un- 


120      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

favorable  impression.  It  was  never  tangible.  It 
was  never  anything  that  I  could  define,  even  to 
myself,  in  words.  It  never  amounted  to  more  than 
an  uneasy  impression. 

"Time  and  again  I  have  resolved  that  the  next 
time  I  summoned  him  to  the  City  of  Mexico  or  that 
I  had  occasion  to  seek  him  at  the  mines  or  at 
whatsoever  place  he  happened  to  be  employed,  I 
would  make  a  closer  and  more  intimate  study  of 
the  man.  But  (and  I  realize  now  that  this  is  the 
remarkable  thing  about  him)  inevitably  and  without 
exception,  each  and  every  time  when  I  was  actually 
with  him  and  talking  to  him  and  listening  to  him 
while  he  talked,  /  was  just  as  strongly  impressed 
in  his  favor;  I  was  made  to  feel  just  as  certain 
that  my  misgivings  about  him  were  purest  folly. 

"The  first  time  I  ever  saw  Holbrook  Chilton  he 
came  to  me  seeking  employment.  I  was  at  a  hotel 
in  Morelia,  the  capital  of  the  State  of  Michoacan, 
at  the  time.  He  appeared  then" — Van  Cleve 
glanced  from  Bing  Harvard  to  Tom  Clancy — "al- 
most exactly  like  the  photographs  that  you  two  gen- 
tlemen have  seen  of  him,  which  were  contained  with 
the  letter  that  I  wrote  and  forwarded  to  Mr.  Har- 
vard, announcing  my  intention  of  coming  North. 
Also,  like  this  three-and-a-quarter  by  four-and-a- 
quarter  snapshot  that  I  once  made  of  him  myself." 

Van  Cleve  paused  while  a  small  kodak  picture 
was  passed  around  from  hand  to  hand.  It  com- 
pleted the  round  at  Katherine,  and  she  held  it  in 
her  hand  when  Van  Cleve  continued : 

"The  man  appeared  to  possess  the  very  quali- 


AN  IMPORTANT  SNAPSHOT          121 

fications  that  I  required  in  such  an  employee.  Down 
in  that  country  we  do  not  inquire  too  closely  con- 
cerning a  man's  antecedents.  I  employed  him.  He 
remained  steadily  in  my  service  and  performed  good 
and  faithful  work  so  far  as  I  know,  until  the  hap- 
pening of  this  circumstance.  He  never  volunteered 
any  information  about  himself — but  once.  At  that 
time  he  mentioned,  apparently  with  inadvertence, 
that  he  was  a  native  of  our  State  of  Virginia.  I 
did  not  doubt  the  truth  of  it;  I  do  not  doubt  it 
now.  I  have  frequently  detected  in  his  conversa- 
tion evidences  of  the  truth  of  it— or  I  have  thought 
I  did  so. 

"He  was — he  is — an  educated  man,  and  a  tal- 
ented one.  He  was  a  freehand  artist  of  unusual 
ability,  but,  I  should  say,  an  untrained  one.  In 
other  words,  a  natural  one.  Without  doubt  it  was 
that  talent  which  enabled  him,  with  practice,  to 
write  my  signature  with  such  a  degree  of  perfec- 
tion that  I  would  not  myself  have  been  able  to  dif- 
ferentiate between  one  that  he  wrote  and  one  that 
I  had  written.  But  I  did  not  know  that  until  a 
week  ago  last  Saturday. 

"Since  these  revelations  concerning  him  have 
come  to  light,  I  have  been  thinking  deeply  about 
them — and  I  have  done  some  telegraphing  to  Mex- 
ico. The  pictures  of  Chilton  came  to  Mr.  Harvard 
in  an  envelope  that  I  addressed  to  him  myself,  and 
which  contained  a  letter  with  my  own  signature 
wrhich  I  had  just  prepared.  The  two  pictures  of 
himself  that  he  managed  to  substitute  for  mine 
were  mounted  on  cabinet-size  cards,  which  bore  the 


THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

imprint  of  a  photographer  in  Mexico  named 
Llorente. 

"Seiior  Llorente  has  replied  to  my  telegrams 
with  the  statement  that  he  did  not  make  the  pictures 
of  Chilton,  but  that  he  found,  after  the  receipt  of 
my  message,  that  four  of  his  cards  for  mounting 
photographs  were  missing.  That  circumstance  re- 
calls another  trivial  one. 

"The  evening  of  the  day  when  I  posed  for  my 
own  pictures  I  drove  to  Chilton's  place  of  residence 
in  San  Felipi  Neri  Street.  As  I  stepped  down  from 
the  carriage  I  distinctly  saw  a  brilliant  flash  of  light 
at  the  window  of  one  of  the  two  rooms  which  I 
supposed  to  be  occupied  by  my  manager.  The  win- 
dow was  closely  curtained,  but  that  flash  of  light 
did  show  through  certain  crevices  and  openings  so 
that  I  saw  it.  Chilton  was,  however,  in  the  other 
of  his  two  rooms,  engaged  in  rolling  and  lighting  a 
cigarette,  when  I  was  admitted.  Doubtless  he  had 
heard  the  carriage-wheels  when  I  drove  to  the  door. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  now  that  he  was  occupied  in 
making  those  pictures  of  himself  that  he  later  sent 
here.  Another  message  to  the  chief  of  police  of 
Mexico  City,  who  happens  to  be  a  friend,  has 
brought  a  reply  which  states  that  he  visited  the 
house  in  San  Felipe  Neri  in  response  to  my  request, 
and  that  he  found  there  a  complete  and  valuable 
photographing  outfit. 

"I  mention  these  things,  not  because  they  are  of 
particular  consequence  to  our  investigation  just 
now,  but  as  evidence  of  the  undoubted  fact  that 
Chilton  had  for  a  long  time  been  preparing  for 


AN  IMPORTANT  SNAPSHOT         123 

some  such  move  as  the  one  he  eventually  carried 
out  My  own  belief  is  that  he  intended  to  murder 
me,  or  to  have  me  killed  down  there,  so  that  I 
never  would  return  to  this  city  of  New  York.  But 
that  the  suddenness  of  my  announcement  of  inten- 
tion to  leave  the  country  precipitated  matters  for 
him  so  that  he  was  forced  to  act  quickly.  It  is  a 
fact — and  it  may  interest  you  to  know  it — that  a 
very  pronounced  effort  was  made  to  kill  me  just 
before  I  succeeded  in  getting  away  from  the  City 
of  Mexico. 

"Now,  my  friends,  Holbrook  Chilton  was  with- 
out doubt  an  assumed  name.  It  is  quite  possible 
that  his  remark  that  he  was  a  native  of  Virginia — 
which  I  thought  to  be  a  'break,'  at  the  time — was 
a  carefully  studied  statement.  But  there  can  be  no 
doubt  whatever  that  the  man  was  Southern  born. 
There  are  certain  twists  of  the  tongue  in  that  sec- 
tion of  our  splendid  country  which  cannot  be  mis- 
taken, and  which  can  never  be  acquired  nor  cor- 
rectly imitated. 

"Lastly  (and  this  will  close  my  somewhat  lengthy 
statement),  looking  back  upon  my  association  with 
Holbrook  Chilton,  I  am  convinced  of  the  follow- 
ing points : 

"His  hair  was  naturally  dark,  but  I  believe  he 
dyed  it  the  jet-black  it  was  down  there.  Sun  and 
wind  and  exposure  did  not  tan  his  complexion  to 
the  leathery  hue  it  assumed  before  and  retained 
while  he  was  in  my  employ.  It  was  created,  I  be- 
lieve, by  a  stain  or  a  pigment,  which,  in  fact,  pro- 
tected his  skin.  When  he  did  away  with  it,  shaved 


THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

off  his  beard,  cut  his  hair,  and  restored  it  to  its 
natural  color,  he  would  become  a  changed  man  en- 
tirely. 

"Finally,  he  was  the  coolest  man — and,  I  might 
truthfully  add,  one  of  the  bravest  men — I  ever  saw 
in  the  face  of  danger.  He  courted  it.  Nothing 
rattled  him.  And  there  was  a  certain  indefinable 
charm  about  his  personality  which  was  experienced 
by  every  man  or  woman  who  came  in  contact  with 
him.  In  short,  my  friends,  Chilton  was  and  is  now, 
wherever  he  may  be,  a  thoroughgoing  egotist,  and 
I  am  convinced  that  that  trail  will  keep  him — has 
kept  him — close  to  the  scene  of  his  latest  (perhaps 
his  only)  exploit. 

"Now,  if  there  are  questions  concerning  him  or 
his  relations  with  me  that  occur  to  any  of  you, 
please  ask  them." 

There  was  a  short  interval  of  silence  after  Van 
Cleve  had  finished,  and  it  was  Lady  Kate  who  put 
the  first  question.  She  did  not  raise  her  eyes  to 
Van  Cleve  when  she  spoke,  but  kept  them  fixed  upon 
the  small  photograph  that  she  held  in  her  hand. 
Every  eye  in  the  room  turned  toward  her  quickly, 
but  she  appeared  to  be  unconscious  of  the  fact. 

"I  have  noticed,  and  I  have  been  taught,"  she 
said,  prefacing  her  question,  "that  every  adult  per- 
son, man  or  woman,  is  addicted  to  some  character- 
istic gesture  or  mannerism  or  figure  of  speech  or 
exclamation  to  express  surprise,  pleasure,  astonish- 
ment, anger,  or  satisfaction.  Your  association  with 
Holbrook  Chilton,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  spanned  a  con- 
siderable period.  During  it,  being  an  observant 


AN  IMPORTANT  SNAPSHOT          125 

man,  you  should  have  noticed  such  a  characteristic 
gesture,  mannerism,  or  verbal  expression,  if  there 
was  one.  Can  you  give  us  any  information  as  to 
that  point?" 

"Very  little,  if  any.  The  man  was  always 
strangely  self-possessed ;  oddly  motionless  when  not 
actually  engaged  in  doing  something;  enigmatically 
expressionless  when  not  actually  giving  expression 
to  something  he  was  saying  or  doing.  He  had  no 
nervous  habits;  rather,  he  gave  me  the  impression 
of  being  without  nerves.  Really,  I  can  recall  only 
one  act  of  his  which  might  be  called  a  mannerism 
or  a  characteristic  act — and  even  that  one  would 
be  of  little  service  to  us  here  in  the  North. 

"He  always  rolled  his  cigarettes  between  the  sec- 
ond and  third  fingers,  instead  of  between  the  first 
fingers  and  thumbs;  and  always  he  rolled  them 
backward.  I  have  never  seen  anybody  else  do  it  in 
exactly  that  way." 

Lady  Kate,  still  with  her  eyes  directed  upon  the 
picture  she  held  in  her  hand,  replied  evenly: 

"The  first  part  of  your  answer  is  the  reply  to  my 
question,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.  Thank  you." 

Rushton,  in  his  corner,  nodded  a  vehement  af- 
firmative and  shot  a  glance  of  admiration  toward 
Katherine. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE  PICTURE  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON 

Katharine  addressed  her  next  question  to  the  red- 
haired  chief  of  the  National  Detective  Agency. 

"Please  give  us,"  she  said,  "a  brief  account  of 
what  you  have  learned  concerning  the  movements 
of  Chilton  after  the  moment  when  he  went  out  of 
my  husband's  office  at  11.30  A.  M.,  one  week  ago 
last  Friday." 

"He  spent  two  or  three  hours  in  going  from 
bank  to  bank  and  changing  one-thousand-dollar 
bills  into  smaller  currency.  He  ultimately  returned 
to  his  hotel,  paid  his  bill,  drove  to  the  Grand  Cen- 
tral Station,  purchased  a  ticket  and  a  Pullman  com- 
partment for  Chicago,  and  departed.  He  went  into 
the  dining-car  as  soon  as  it  was  available.  He  re- 
turned to  his  compartment  immediately  afterward, 
told  the  porter  that  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed  until 
morning,  and  locked  himself  inside.  There  is  no 
authentic  account  of  his  having  been  seen  again 
after  that  time ;  no  report  of  any  person  not  other- 
wise accounted  for  leaving  that  car  or  that  train 
while  it  was  on  its  way  to  Chicago. 

"When  he  did  not  appear  the  following  morning, 
and  made  no  response  to  repeated  summonses  at 
his  door,  it  was  opened  with  a  duplicate  key.  The 
man  had  disappeared,  and  with  him  the  smaller  of 

126 


PICTURE  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON    127 

the  two  satchels  he  had  taken  aboard  of  the  train. 
That  smaller  satchel  without  doubt  contained  the 
money  he  had  drawn  from  this  bank." 

"And  from  me,  also,"  Tom  Clancy  interposed. 
"Don't  forget  that  little  item  of  thirty-six  thou- 
sand." 

"All  of  the  clothing  he  had  worn  when  he  went 
aboard  of  the  train,  even  to  underclothing,  hand- 
kerchiefs, collar,  tie,  et  cetera,  was  found  in  the 
larger  of  the  two  satchels  that  he  left  in  the  com- 
partment," continued  the  chief. 

"There  had  been  six  towels  in  the  rack  when 
he  took  possession  of  the  room.  All  of  them  were 
missing  save  one;  and  that  one  had  been  used  to 
wipe  the  woodwork,  the  nickeled  basin  and  plumb- 
ing, the  window,  and  every  sort  of  smooth  surface 
which  might  have  retained  the  imprint  of  one  of  his 
thumbs  or  fingers.  The  compartment  was  in  per- 
fect order.  The  berth  had  not  been  occupied.  He 
had  closed  it  up,  apparently,  immediately  after  he 
locked  himself  in. 

"Of  course,  the  assumption  is  that  the  larger 
satchel  contained  all  the  clothing  he  required  for 
the  change  he  made ;  that  he  shaved  himself,  cut  his 
own  hair,  washed  the  stain  from  his  face — and  left 
behind  him  every  article  that  had  been  associated 
with  him  in  the  character  of  Holbrook  Chilton." 

"One  moment,  please,"  Katherine  interposed  at 
that  point.  "Was  that  train  made  up  entirely  of 
Pullman  cars?" 

"Yes." 

"It  made  stops — where?" 


"Poughkeepsie,  Albany,  Utica,  Syracuse,  Roches- 
ter, Buffalo." 

"Is  it  not  practically  impossible  for  a  passenger 
to  leave  or  to  enter  one  of  the  cars  of  a  'solid 
Pullman'  train,  particularly  during  the  night,  with- 
out particular  notice  being  taken  of  either  fact  by 
one  of  the  porters  or  by  the  Pullman  conductor?" 

"It  is  supposed  to  be  entirely  impossible." 

"Then,  in  your  opinion,  chief — and  your  experi- 
ence has  been  wide — how  did  Holbrook  Chilton  get 
down  from  that  train  without  the  fact  being  noticed 
— and  remembered?" 

"He  did  not  leave  from  the  off-side  of  the  train 
between  two  cars  where  the  doors  had  not  been 
opened,  because  he  could  not  have  closed  a  door  and 
lowered  the  platform  into  place  from  the  outside 
afterward.  He  must  have  got  off  the  train  in  the 
regular  way,  and  have  walked  calmly  past  one  or 
two  porters,  and  probably  the  Pullman  conductor, 
also,  when  he  did  so;  and  he  must  have  had  his 
small  satchel  in  his  hand  at  the  time.  How  did  he 
accomplish  it?" 

"I'd  like  to  answer  that  question,  Lady  Kate," 
said  Rushton. 

Every  eye  in  the  room  was  directed  toward  him. 
They  waited  in  silence  for  him  to  continue. 

"I've  doped  it  out  like  this — see?"  Rushton  went 
on.  "He  had  figger'd  ahead  on  that  getaway  the 
same's  he'd  figger'd  ahead  on  the  pictures,  and  the 
identification  here  in  this  bank." 

"Well,  Rushton?"  It  was  Bing  Harvard  who 
bent  forward  and  put  the  eager  question. 


PICTURE  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON    129 

"Chilton  worked  on  a  time  schedule,  same's  they 
run  trains  on  a  railroad,  from  the  minute  he  hit 
this  town  till  he  blew  out  of  it.  As  Lady  Kate 
says,  'twa'n't  possible  for  him  to  drop  off  that  train 
without  being  noticed.  Well,  then,  there  was  only 
one  way — just  one — that  he  could  'a'  done  it." 

"How  was  that?"  Harvard  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  Rushton  replied;  and  added: 
"But  if  /  had  been  in  his  place,  and  had  figger'd 
ahead  on  it  as  he  did,  I  know  how  /  would  'a' 
done  it." 

"Tell  us,  then." 

"He  didn't  lock  himself  in  that  stateroom  till 
after  the  train  pulled  out  of  Albany.  He  had  to 
work  like  sixty  to  accomplish  all  he  did  and  to  get 
ready  to  leave  it  at  Syracuse.  Maybe  he  went  on 
to  Rochester.  Anyhow,  that's  what  I'd  have  done. 
I  would  have  bought  a  ticket  and  reserved  a  lower 
berth  or  a  seat  in  a  smoking  compartment  on  that 
train  from  Syracuse  to  Rochester  several  days 
ahead  of  time — and  I'd  have  gone  to  Syracuse  to 
do  it.  I'd  have  had  that  ticket  and  reservation  in- 
side of  my  jeans  before  I  ever  showed  up  at  this 
bank — and  I'd  have  made  the  reservation  of  a  state- 
room out  of  New  York  in  the  name  of  Chilton  a 
day  'r  two  ahead  of  time,  too.  I'd  have  made  the 
changes,  shaved  an'  done  the  rest  of  it  that  had  to 
be  done  between  Albany  and  Syracuse. 

"At  Syracuse,  bein'  ready,  I'd  have  peeked  out 
o'  the  stateroom,  then  slid  outside  and  locked  the 
door  after  me.  Then  I'd  have  drifted  through  the 
car  toward  the  one  in  which  I  knew  my  reservation 


130      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

to  be,  from  Syracuse  to  Rochester,  and  which  I 
had  previously  located.  When  I  passed  a  platform 
where  the  doors  were  opened  to  the  station,  I'd 
have  called  down  to  the  porter  'r  the  Pullman  con- 
ductor standin'  at  the  step  before  the  open  door  and 
I'd  have  asked :  'Say!  Where's  car  two?'  (or  three, 
or  whatever  it  was)  ;  and  I'd  have  given  the  im- 
pression, although  I  wouldn't  have  said  so,  that  I 
had  come  aboard  of  the  train  at  one  of  the  other 
open  doors.  See?  That  wouldn't  have  excited  no 
comment,  nor  notice,  nor  remark. 

"Bimeby,  after  the  train  started  on,  the  conductor 
would  have  hunted  me  for  my  ticket.  I'd  have 
cussed  some  because  I  had  to  make  that  night  trip 
when  there  wasn't  time  to  make  it  worth  while  to 
go  to  bed — and  I'd  have  walked  off  of  the  train 
like  any  other  regular  passenger  when  she  blew 
into  the  station  at  Rochester." 

Rushton  turned  to  the  chief  of  the  agency. 

"If  I  had  been  on  your  job  as  soon  as  you  was, 
chief,  I'd  have  quizzed  them  Pullman  guys  about  a 
passenger  from  Utica  'r  Syracuse  to  Rochester  'r 
Buffalo  that  night;  and  then  I'd  have  talked  to  the 
ticket-agent  at  the  place  where  such  a  passenger 
got  on  at ;  but  it  wouldn't  do  you  no  good  now,  be- 
cause I  have  done  it." 

"What  did  you  discover,  Mr.  Rushton?"  Van 
Cleve  inquired. 

"Well,  what  I've  just  told  you  as  bein'  the  way 
/  would  have  done  it  turned  out  to  be  pretty  close 
to  the  way  Chilton  worked  it  himself.  The  original 
of  that  there  picture  that  Mrs.  Harvard's  hanging 


PICTURE  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON    131 

on  to  did  buy  a  ticket  to  Rochester  and  make  a 
reservation  at  the  Syracuse  station  a  week  ago  last 
Wednesday  afternoon,  and  he  did  have  it  stamped 
so's  the  date  was  the  second  day  afterward.  That 
is,  a  week  ago  last  Friday." 

"And "  Katherine  said,  bending  forward 

in  her  chair. 

"There  was  a  gray-haired  guy  with  mutton-chop 
whiskers,  an'  a  plug  hat,  an'  a  raincoat  buttoned  up 
to  his  chin,  an'  spats  over  his  shoes,  and  a  limp  in 
his  left  leg  who  did  get  aboard  of  that  train  at 
Syracuse  that  night,  and  who  did  get  off  at  Roches- 
ter, and  who  did  sit  in  the  smoking  compartment 
and  snooze  all  the  hundred  miles  between  them  two 
stations;  anyhow,  that  is  what  the  conductor  and 
two  porters  agreed  on  in  telling  me." 

"And,  of  course,  that  was  Chilton?" 

"Sure.  And  he  shed  the  gray  hair  and  the 
whiskers  and  the  plug  hat  and  the  raincoat  and  the 
spats  and  the  limp  pretty  soon  after  he  got  off  at 
Rochester,  more  than  likely." 

"And  then  returned  to  New  York?" 

"I'd  bet  the  gold  out  o'  my  eye-tooth,  Lady  Kate, 
that  he  ate  lunch  in  New  York  the  very  next  day," 
Rushton  replied  with  settled  conviction. 

Then  he  turned  to  Van  Cleve. 

"And,"  he  added,  "if  you  will  give  me  the  num- 
ber of  that  house  in  San-Philip-Something  Street, 
in  the  city  of  Mexico,  and  a  letter  to  that  chief  of 

police  friend  of  yourn can  he  talk  United  States 

so  I  can  understand  him?" 

"Yes.     He  speaks  English  very  well  indeed." 


132      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Well,  if  you  will  give  me  a  letter  to  him  I'll 
leave  to-night  for  Mexico;  and  I  won't  stay  there 
more'n  a  day  after  I  get  there,  either.  Where'd 
you  say  that  office  of  yourn  was  down  there?" 

"In  calle  Gante;  that  is,  in  Gante  Street." 

"I  suppose  that  everything  that  was  in  it  has  been 
rotted  out  by  this  time,  eh?" 

"No.  I  merely  looked  at  it  and  left  it  just  as  it 
was.  My  lease  of  it  runs  for  another  year.  It  may 
have  been  entered  since  I  came  away,  but  I  hardly 
think  so.  Those  who  know  me  down  there,  with 
the  exception  of  the  chief  of  police  to  whom  I 
telegraphed,  do  not  know  that  I  have  left  the  coun- 
try." 

_"Well,  that's  all  right.  I'll  take  a  chance  on  find- 
ing what  I'm  going  after.  It  is  worth  the  effort, 
anyhow." 

"One  might  ask  what  the  devil  you  are  going 
after,  Rushton?"  Tom  Clancy  interjected. 

Rushton  half  closed  one  eye  while  he  fixed  the 
other  upon  Tom  and  replied,  grinning: 

"I'm  going  down  there,  Mr.  Clancy,  to  start  a 
brand  new  revolution;  and  if  I  can  do  it  at  all,  one 
full  day  will  be  about  all  I'll  need." 

Then,  to  Harvard :  "I  ought  to  make  it  in  about 
two  weeks ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  the  thing  I'm  after 
is  worth  the  effort." 

"Don't  you  want  to  tell  us  what  it  is,  Mr.  Rush- 
ton?"  Katherine  asked. 

"No,  please;  I  don't." 

"Probably  the  lieutenant  is  of  the  opinion  that 
Chilton  has  returned  to  Mexico  by  this  time,"  one 


PICTURE  OF  HOLBROOK  CHILTON    133 

of  the  operatives  of  the  national  agency  remarked 
with  a  touch  of  sarcasm. 

Rushton  turned  upon  him  and  replied,  evidently 
with  hidden  significance : 

"I'll  bet  a  hundred  dollars  that  you  have  looked 
straight  into  Chilton's  eyes  more  than  once  in  the 
last  ten  days  and  didn't  suspect  it.  I'll  bet  that  you 
will  look  into  them  again  while  I'm  away  and  won't 
even  guess  at  it.  And  I'll  bet  that  when  I  get  back 
here,  or  soon  afterward,  I'll  be  able  to  prove  to  the 
satisfaction  of  everybody  present  that  what  I've 
just  said  is  true.  Are  you  on?" 

"We  certainly  hope  that  you  will  be,  Rushton," 
the  chief  interposed  before  his  operative  could  reply, 
"and  when  you  do  get  back,  if  we  have  not  nailed 
the  fellow  in  the  meantime,  you  can  rely  upon  each 
one  of  us  standing  in  line  to  help  you.  I  think  I 
know  what  you  are  going  there  to  get;  and  if  I  am 
right,  it  is  a  good  move." 

"Well" — Rushton  left  his  chair— "I  guess  this 
meeting  is  about  ready  to  adjourn.  I'll  take  a  walk 
along  with  you,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  if  you'll  let  me. 
I  want  to  dig  up  a  little  more  information  out  o' 
you,  if  I  can." 

"And  I,"  Katherine  said,  also  addressing  him, 
"would  like  to  keep  this  picture  for  a  time,  if  I  may. 
I  think  there  is — I  have  an  idea  that  I  would  like 
to  study  it  in  connection  with  certain  things  you 
said  about  the  man  himself." 

"Certainly.  Keep  it  by  all  means,"  Van  Cleve 
replied  at  once. 


184      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE     

Tom  Clancy,  bending  closer  to  Katharine,  said  in 
an  undertone : 

"I  was  just  about  to  ask  Mr.  Van  Cleve  to  lend 
me  the  picture,  Katherine.  I  wonder  if  my  reason 
is  the  same  as  yours.  Eh?" 

She  shot  a  startled  but  half -puzzled  glance  at 
him  and  replied  quickly: 

"It  could  not  be,  Tom.    It  is  impossible." 

"Maybe  so,"  said  Tom;  but  he  left  the  impres- 
sion with  her  that  he  did  not  think  so,  nevertheless. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  MESSAGE  FROM   MEXICO 

Rushton  and  Van  Cleve,  when  they  left  the  con- 
ference at  the  bank  together,  called  a  taxicab  and 
were  driven  directly  to  the  Hotel  Mammoth,  where 
Mr.  Van  Cleve  was  staying. 

"I  think  that  I  must  go  to  Mexico,"  Rushton 
announced  with  an  air  of  finality  as  soon  as  they 
were  started. 

"Is  it  necessary,  Rushton?"  Van  Cleve  asked 
quietly.  "A  trip  like  that  takes  time.  The  whole 
country  is  unsettled  just  now.  Journeying  through 
it  at  present  is  not  what  it  might  be,  and  you  are 
likely  to  be  detained  much  longer  than  you  plan 
for."  * 

"I  know  it." 

"But  you  think  that  you  must  go  there?" 

"Somebody  must." 

"Could  not  some  person  down  there  perform  the 
service  you  require  ?  Could  the  matter  be  done  for 
you  in  any  way?" 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.     But 

if  somebody  was  there  who  knew  how  to  do  it  and 

who  would  do  it  for  you,  and  if  we  could  get  a 

telegram  or  a  cable  to  that  man  that  would  explain 

exactly  what  it  is  that  I  want  done — well,  it  might 

*  The  time  was  after  the  overthrow  of  Diaz  by  Madero. 

135 


136      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

do  the  trick.  And  I  wish  to  Heaven  that  it  could  be 
done,  so  that  I  would  not  have  to  go  away  just  now." 

"That  is  precisely  the  feeling  that  I  have  about 
it,  Rushton." 

"Do  you  think  it  can  be  worked,  sir?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it — provided  it  is  anything  con- 
fidential. But  you  have  not  told  me  what  it  is  yet." 

"I  want  finger-prints  and  thumb-prints,  if  there 
are  any  to  be  found  down  there,  of  Mr.  Holbrook 
Chilton.  That's  what  I  want,  sir." 

"Good.  That  will  be  easy — if  there  are  any  there 
to  be  found.  And — I  think  it  is  quite  possible  that 
there  are  some." 

"You  do?" 

"Yes.  I  am  sure,  for  example,  that  my  office  is 
still  closed  in  the  calle  Gante;  that  it  has  not  been 
opened  or  entered  since  I  left  it,  and  will  not  be  for 
some  time  to  come.  The  same  rule  would  apply 
to  Chilton's  rooms  in  San  Felipe  Neri,-  and  there 
should  be  many  finger-prints  of  his  there  on  the 
camera  he  used  in  making  the  pictures,  on  the  plates 
he  touched  and  did  not  use,  on  the  furniture  gen- 
erally. Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"Good." 

"And,  at  my  office,  while  he  talked  to  me  the  very 
last  time  he  was  there,  I  remember  now  that  he 
stood  for  a  time  leaning  over  a  table  that  was  be- 
tween us,  and  that  the  fingers  of  both  of  his  hands 
rested  upon  the  smooth  and  polished  surface  of  the 
top  of  that  table  at  the  time." 

"Fine !  Then  he  has  left  the  print  of  them  there, 
all  right." 


THE  MESSAGE  FROM  MEXICO       137 

"There  is  not  a  doubt  of  it,  I  think." 

"Now,  who  is  the  man  you  have  in  mind  to  do 
this  work  for  us,  Mr.  Van  Cleve?" 

"His  name  is  Tranquilino  Corona — but  that  will 
mean  nothing  to  you.  Also,  he  is  my  very  good 
friend,  and  has  been  so  for  a  long  time.  He  is  a 
man  I  can  trust  thoroughly." 

"That  is  all  right,  too.  But  is  he  a  chap  that 
can  do  the  trick — who  will  know  how  to  do  it?" 

"Without  a  doubt.  Before  Madero  came  into 
power,  before  President  Diaz  was  ousted,  Corona 
was  the  president's  right-hand  man  in  the  secret 
service  down  there.  He  is  a  thoroughly  trained 
detective,  Rushton.  Diaz  once  sent  him  to  Paris 
to  study  the  methods  over  there.  I  know  that  he 
is  familiar  with  the  finger-print  business." 

"Then  he  is  just  the  man  for  us." 

"I  know  that  he  is." 

"When  we  get  to  your  rooms  at  the  hotel,  we 
will  get  up  a  telegram  to  send  to  him,  no  matter 
what  the  length  of  it  or  what  it  costs — eh?" 

"Certainly." 

"And  you  will  sign  it  with  your  name  and — 
I've  got  another  thought  right  here." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Can  you  fix  it  so  that  his  replies  will  come 
direct  to  me  under  another  name  than  my  own,  do 
you  think?" 

"Easily.  I  will  tell  him  in  the  body  of  the  mes- 
sage how  to  address  his  replies.  But  why  that, 
Rushton?" 

"Because   I   am  thinking  that   I  will  disappear 


138      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

from  this  locality  for  a  time.  I  am  thinking  that  it 
will  be  just  as  well — and  better — if  we  let  the  oth- 
ers, all  of  them,  believe  that  I  have  gone  to  Mexico. 
I  think  that  I  can  do  better  work  in  that  case." 

"It  is  a  good  idea,  Rushton.  I  approve  of  it. 
Only  you  will  tell  Mr.  Harvard  and " 

"I'll  tell  nobody  but  you,  sir.  Not  a  soul — only 
Banta." 

"Who  is  Banta?" 

"He  is  the  gray-haired  chap  that  sat  next  to  you 
part  of  the  time  this  afternoon.  We  are  old  friends 
— old  pals — used  to  be  side  partners  on  the  force. 
He  is  with  Chief  Redhead  now  since  he  retired. 
I'm  goin'  to  take  him  in  with  me  on  this  deal — 
and  what  Banta  an'  me  can't  pull  off  together  won't 
be  worth  pullin'  off,  believe  me!" 

"Very  well.    You  know  best,  Rushton." 

"Say,  it's  a  thousand  to  one  that  Redhead,  now 
that  he  knows  that  I  am  bound  for  Mex,  will  have 
me  trailed;  or  will  wanta  send  somebody  with  me. 
If  he  does  it  will  be  Banta  that  he  will  pick.  So 
Banta  an'  me'll  make  the  start,  all  right,  all  right; 
but  we  won't  go  very  far  on  the  way  at  that." 

"But  why  is  that  necessary?" 

For  a  moment  Rushton  turned  and  looked 
straight  at  Van  Cleve,  as  if  there  was  something 
that  he  was  about  to  say.  But  evidently  he  changed 
his  mind,  so  he  replied  presently: 

"I've  got  still  another  idea  that  I  ain't  sure  about, 
Mr.  Van  Cleve ;  and  until  I  am  mighty  sure  I  don't 
want  to  give  it  out.  But  I  will  say  this  much  right 
now:  If  that  guy  Chilton  is  playing  the  game  as 


THE  MESSAGE  FROM  MEXICO       139 

I  think  he  is  playing  it,  and  if  he  is  the  man  I 
think  he  may  be,  right  here  in  this  blessed  city  now, 
there  ain't  any  human  way  short  of  them  finger- 
prints to  prove  it.  There  ain't  any  other  way  to 
nail  him  to  the  cross.  And — here  is  the  point — if 
he  is  that  man  it's  pretty  dead  certain  that  he  will 
be  keepin'  tabs  on  Harvard  an'  Clancy  an'  you  an' 
me — mostly  me,  too — from  this  out — see?" 

"Who — whom  do  you  suspect,   Rushton?" 

"I  ain't  say  in'  just  yet.  I  don't  want  to  say  it 
now.  But  I  will  say  this  much :  I  know  a  guy  that 
rolls  cigarettes  just  the  way  you  talked  about  at  the 
bank  to-day." 

"Very  well.  I  am  content.  I  believe  in  you, 
Rushton.  I  think  that  you  are  the  right  man  in 
the  right  place." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"Is  he — is  the  man  to  whom  you  refer  one  whom 
we  see  and  know,  do  you  think  ?" 

"Tryin'  to  put  me  through  the  third  degree,  Mr. 
Van  Cleve?"  Rushton  asked  with  a  smile.  "Hon- 
estly, I  don't  wanta  talk  about  that  just  yet." 

"Very  good.  We  will  drop  the  subject.  Only 
I  wish  to  assure  you  that  I  have  every  confidence 
in  your  ability." 

"Say,  don't  rub  it  in  too  thick,  sir.  You  might 
get  me  stuck  on  myself." 

At  the  hotel,  in  the  privacy  of  Van  Cleve's  suite 
of  rooms,  the  message  to  Mexico  was  concocted 
after  a  great  deal  of  labor.  But  it  was  very  much 
to  the  point.  Words  were  not  spared  to  render 
perfectly  plain  what  was  wanted  to  the  man  who 


140      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

was  destined  to  receive  it.  Every  instruction  was 
given  to  him  regarding  how  to  proceed ;  how  to  se- 
cure the  finger-prints,  how  to  preserve  them  once 
they  were  secured,  how  to  pack  and  forward  them, 
and  the  name  and  address  in  New  York  to  which 
they  were  to  be  sent — a  name  and  address  that 
Rodney  Rushton  supplied.  In  all,  the  message  con- 
tained one  hundred  and  thirty  words;  but  nothing 
that  could  add  to  its  efficiency  or  to  the  necessary 
instruction  of  Tranquilino  Corona  was  omitted — 
and  the  message  itself  was  finally  filed  for  transmis- 
sion at  the  main  office  of  the  telegraph  company. 

Afterward  Rushton  sought  Banta  at  Banta's 
home,  and  the  two  conversed  in  private  for  a  long 
time  after  that.  They  were  old  side  partners  who 
had  come  together  again,  and  who  were  both  equally 
delighted  at  the  prospect  of  working  once  more  in 
unity  and  harmony.  And  when  Rushton  finally 
sought  his  own  quarters  there  was  a  smile  of  in- 
tense satisfaction  and  content — and  confidence  in 
the  outcome,  too— in  his  eyes  and  upon  his  face. 
He  thought  that  he  could  see  far  enough  ahead  of 
him,  then,  to  know  just  what  the  possession  of 
those  finger-prints  would  do. 


LADY  KATE  S  PERIL 

In  the  meantime  Betty  Keese  and  her  alluring 
and  hypnotic  brother  were  motoring  together  in 
Westchester  County  in  the  high-powered  roadster 
that  was  his  newest  possession.  But  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  he  had  owned  it  only  a  few  days 
he  was  thoroughly  master  of  the  craft  of  operating 
it — just  as  he  very  quickly  became  the  master  of 
whatsoever  he  undertook  to  perform.  The  two 
were  oddly  silent  at  the  beginning  of  their  ride. 
Very  little  more  than  the  commonest  civilities  were 
exchanged  between  them  during  the  first  half -hour 
or  so  of  it.  The  rumble  seat  behind  them  was  un- 
occupied. They  were  as  utterly  alone,  in  so  far  as 
confidential  conversation  between  them  was  con- 
cerned, as  if  they  had  been  upon  a  mountain-peak. 

"Well,  Ben?"  Betty  remarked  when  they  were 
going  along  within  sight  of  the  Sound,  going  only 
at  a  moderate  pace. 

Then,  when  he  made  no  reply,  she  added :  "You 
did  not  bring  me  out  here  this  afternoon  just  be- 
cause you  were  crazy  for  your  sister's  company,  you 
know.  Don't  forget  that  I  am  your  sister." 

He  turned  his  head  and  shot  a  swift  glance  at 
Betty.  His  eyes  glowed  appreciatively,  and  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  twitched  with  a  glimmer  of 
amusement. 

141 


142      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"Quite  right,  Betty,"  he  said — and  drove  on  again 
in  silence. 

"I  reckon  I  already  know  the  drift  of  what  you 
want  to  say,"  she  went  on ;  "but  I  will  wait  for  you 
to  say  it,  just  the  same." 

"You  see,"  he  remarked,  after  another  short 
period  of  silence,  "there  is  never  an  opportunity  for 
a  word  alone  with  you  at  Harvard's  house.  Kitten 
or  Harvard  himself,  or  that  everlasting  and  ever- 
present  Bolton,  the  butler — one  of  them  is  always 
butting  in.  Or,  if  it  is  not  one  of  them,  it  is  that 
new  maid  whom,  you  tell  me,  Kitten  has  engaged 
only  since  your  arrival." 

"A  brother  and  sister  aren't  supposed  to  have 
state  secrets  to  discuss,  Ben,"  his  sister  said,  with 
a  toss  of  her  head.  Then  she  half-turned  in  her  seat 
and  demanded : 

"Say  it,  Ben,  whatever  it  is?  You  did  not  send 
for  me  to  come  north,  for  any  other  purpose  than 
to  make  use  of  me.  I  know  that  perfectly  well. 
Now — what  is  the  use  to  which  you  intend  (if  you 
can)  to  put  me?" 

He  shrugged.  Then,  although  he  still  looked 
straight  ahead  of  him  over  the  steering-wheel,  he 
smiled.  A  moment  later  he  chuckled  audibly. 

"You  are  so  sudden,"  he  derided  her,  and  laughed 
aloud. 

Then,  sharply,  and  with  unexpected  directness, 
he  announced :  "I  am  here  to  win  Kitten  away  from 
Bingham  Harvard,  whom  she  calls  her  husband. 
And  I  am  going  to  do  it.  And  you,  Betty,  are 
going  to  help  me." 


LADY  KATE'S  PERIL 143 

"I  knew  that  that  was  about  what  you  were  going 
to  say,  Ben,"  his  sister  replied,  with  slow  deliberate- 
ness.  "This  is  my  answer :  I  would  sooner  see  you 
tied  down  on  a  white  ant-hill  and  slowly  devoured." 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it,  Betty,"  he  replied,  with 
another  shrug.  "But,  you  see,  I  know  you  better 
than  you  know  yourself.  If  I  were  tied  down  as 
you  say  you  would  cut  the  cords,  all  right.  And 
you  will  help  me  to  sever  the  bonds  that  hold  Kitten 
and  Bingham  Harvard  together,  too.  You  have  got 
to  do  it!" 

Betty  was  silent. 

"Haven't  you?"  he  insisted. 

"I  prefer  to  hear  all  that  you  have  to  say  on 
the  subject  before  I  reply  to  that  question,"  she 
said  then. 

"I  accumulated  a  good  deal  of  money  while  I 
was  in  China,  Betty,"  he  stated,  with  an  abrupt 
'change  of  subject. 

"Were  you  in  China?"  she  demanded,  without 
raising  her  voice,  and  with  her  head  turned  so  that 
she  was  gazing  out  across  the  Sound. 

"Naturally — since  I  tell  you  so.  I  brought  back 
a  small  fortune  with  me,  too.  It  is  in  cash,  and  is 
therefore  available.  I  can  afford  to  give  you  as 
much  as  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  it,  Betty — if  you 
want  it  badly  enough  to  do  as  I  say." 

"So  my  affectionate,  sisterly  services  are  to  be 
purchased,  are  they?" 

"If  you  prefer  to  put  it  in  that  way — yes." 

"Suppose  I  decline  the  proposition?" 

"I  think  I  know  you  well  enough  to  feel  assured 
that  you  will  not — quite  dare — to  do  that." 


144      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

He  half-turned  his  head  and  looked  straight  at 
Betty  when  he  used  the  two  threatening  words. 

"And  I  know  myself  well  enough  to  be  able  to 
assure  you  that  I  can,  and  will,  make  you  accept  it, 
dear  sister." 

"Kittle  hates  you,  Ben." 

"She  thinks  she  does — when  I  am  not  present. 
It  is  quite  the  contrary  whenever  I  am  in  touch 
of  her.  She  is  a  little  bit  afraid  of  me,  that's  all — 
and  she  doesn't  quite  know  what  it  is  that  she  is 
afraid  of.  She  has  not  studied  it,  because  she  has 
feared  to  do  so.  She  flutters  about  like  a  bird 
in  a  cage  when  I  am  near  to  her.  She  flushes  and 
pales :  she  tries  to  escape,  but  inevitably  returns  ; 
she  avoids  my  eyes  all  she  can,  but  always  I  can 
draw  them  back  to  mine ;  she  catches  her  breath,  she 
breathes  quickly  or  slowly,  as  I  will  her  to  do.  She 
feels,  all  in  the  same  instant,  the  impulse  to  strike 
me  dead  at  her  feet  and  to  fly  into  my  arms  and  to 
lie  there.  She  cannot  commit  the  former  act;  she 
will — she  must — do  the  latter." 

"Ben" — Betty  turned  to  her  brother  with  sudden 
earnestness — "Kitty  is  happy  now.  She  loves  her 
husband.  She  adores  him.  He  is  her  idol,  her 
world.  Go  away  and  leave  her  alone,  won't  you? 
Please!" 

He  laughed  harshly. 

"Go  away  and  leave  her  to  another  man — to 
that  other  man,  who,  in  spite  of  every  concentrated 
energy  and  effort  of  my  soul,  won  her  away  from 
me!  Go  away  and  leave  her  to  the  man  who  took 
possession  of  her,  owned  her,  and  held  her  in  his 


LADY   KATE'S   PERIL 145 

arms,  and  won  her  caresses  and  her  embraces,  while 
I  was  absent?"  Benton  Keese  cried,  his  handsome 
face  dark  with  anger,  his  eyes  flaming  with  sullen, 
smoldering  fires. 

He  guided  the  car  to  the  side  of  the  road  and 
stopped  it.  He  half  turned  in  his  seat  to  face  his 
sister.  The  sinister  beauty  of  his  shapely  features 
was  never  more  remarkable  than  when  he  was  in 
one  of  his  fits  of  passionate  temper. 

"Do  you  know  me  so  littte  as  to  expect  that, 
Elizabeth?"  he  asked,  smiling  cruelly.  "Did  you 
ever  know  me  to  relent  after  I  had  once  determined 
upon  a  projected  course?  Don't  you  know  that  I 
would  sacrifice  everything — you,  and  even  Kitten 
herself  in  the  end — to  win  her  now?" 

Betty  shrank  away  from  him  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  she  believed  that  she  knew  him  better,  and 
therefore  feared  him  less,  than  others  did.  She 
trembled  inwardly,  wide-eyed  and  frightened.  She 
could  see,  through  the  smoldering  glare  of  his  eyes, 
the  devil  that  dwelt  inside  of  him.  It  had  always 
been  there.  Their  own  father,  now  dead,  had  been 
afraid  to  arouse  it.  Their  mother  had  dreaded  it 
and  had  always  been  frightened  by  it.  The  negroes 
had  called  him  "that  little  devil"  when  he  was  a  boy. 
Betty  could  remember,  when  she  was  five  and  he 
was  fifteen,  how  he  had  shocked  her  and  filled  her 
with  horror  by  acts  of  cruelty  that  he  had  commit- 
ted, and  how  frequently,  and  almost  in  the  next 
moment,  he  had  won  her  again  with  kindnesses  and 
by  the  power  of  his  strange  personality.  She  was 
not  afraid  for  herself,  but  she  was  frightened — 


146      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

terribly  frightened — for  Katherine,  and  it  was  be- 
cause she  did  know  her  brother  so  well,  because 
she  understood  his  subtle  power  to  charm,  and  rea- 
lized his  daring. 

But  all  of  the  subtlety  that  had  descended  from 
the  Keese  ancestors  had  not  been  bestowed  upon 
Benton.  Betty  had  inherited  some  of  it  herself. 
She  had  no  thought  other  than  to  be  unswervingly 
loyal  to  her  friend;  but  she  knew,  also,  that  she 
could  not  successfully  battle  against  her  brother  in 
the  open,  even  in  the  service  of  Katherine.  She 
was  aware  that  to  combat  him  she  must  meet  him 
on  his  own  ground,  in  his  own  way,  and  that  she 
would  have  to  be  as  subtle,  as  far-seeing,  and  as 
resourceful  as  he  was. 

So,  when  that  momentary  burst  of  passion  had 
swept  over  him  and  spent  itself,  she  asked  him 
quietly : 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  Ben?" 

He  started  the  car  ahead  before  he  replied. 

"I  don't  know — yet,"  he  said  after  an  interval. 
"But  I  must  know  that  I  can  depend  upon  you. 
When  the  time  comes  to  act  you  must  be  ready  to 
act  with  me  and  for  me.  No  matter  what  the  emer- 
gency may  be,  I  must  know  that  you  will  stand 
with  me  through  it  and  to  the  end  of  it." 

"Ben,"  Betty  entreated,  "you  will  not  use — you 
will  not  attempt  to  compel  Kittie  to  go  away  with 
— Oh,  dear — you  must  not " 

He  interrupted  her  calmly. 

"I  will  use  persuasion  to  the  limit,"  he  said  delib- 
erately. "If  that  fails  I  will  employ  other  and  more 


LADY   KATE'S   PERIL 147 

certain  methods.  And  you  must  help,  if  it  comes 
to  that." 

"Ben" — she  reached  out  and  rested  one  hand 
lightly  upon  his  arm — "don't  you  know  that  Bing- 
ham  Harvard  will  kill  you  in  the  end,  no  matter 
how  you  may  accomplish  what  you  have  started 
out  to  do?  No  matter  even  if  you  fail  at  the  last? 
Don't  you  know  that  he  will  kill  you,  even  if  you 
have  tried  and  have  failed?" 

He  shrugged  and  did  not  answer. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  the  history  of 
Bingham  Harvard  ?"  his  sister  asked  him. 

"I  know  all  about  it.  I  know  everything  about 
it" 

"Are  you  sure?  Do  you  know  all  about  him 
when  he  was  called  'Alias  the  Night  Wind'?" 

"Yes;  and  if  he  were  ten  thousand  Night  Winds 
rolled  into  one,  the  fact  would  make  no  difference. 
I  want  her — his  wife.  And  I'm  going  to  get  her. 
And,  if  I  have  to  kill  him  in  order  to  do  it,  why — 
I  will  kill  him ;  that's  all." 

"My  God,  Benton " 

"No  heroics,  if  you  please,  Elizabeth." 

"Have  you  been  told  about  the  terrible  strength 
of  the  man,  and  of  his  awful  temper,  when  it  is 
aroused  ?  Do  you  know  about " 

"I  tell  you  I  know  all  about  him;  everything. 
And  you  know  mighty  little  about  your  beloved 
brother,  if  you  think  that  you  can  frighten  me. 
Now,  listen  to  me  for  a  moment." 

"Well?"  Betty  turned  her  head  away  while  she 
listened. 


148      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"I  have  not  given  myself  any  too  much  time  to 
do  all  that  I  intend  to  do.  Two  weeks — or  three, 
at  the  most,  is  all  that  I  care  to  allow  myself.  I 
intend,  then,  to  disappear.  And  Kitten  shall  disap- 
pear with  me.  Do  you  understand  that?" 

Betty  nodded  her  head  affirmatively.  She  could 
not  have  spoken  just  then. 

"Willingly,  if  she  will ;  by  force,  if  necessary,  she 
shall  go  away  with  me.  But  I  think — I  intend  in 
the  meantime — to  compel  her  to  a  willingness,  if 
not  to  an  eagerness,  to  escape  from  Harvard,  and 
to  go  anywhere,  even  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the 
earth,  with  me.  Do  you  understand  that?  If  you 
do  not,  I  won't  explain.  If  you  do,  you  need  not 
think  too  much  about  it.  But  my  plans  are  made. 
I  shall  carry  them  out  to  the  end.  I  waited  too  long 
a  time  for  Katherine  Maxwilton  to  let  any  consid- 
eration for  Katherine  Harvard  stand  in  my  way. 
And  as  for  the  man  who  stepped  into  the  ring  and 
caught  her  when  I  was  not  present  to  prevent 
it ? 

"I  will  find  a  way  to  be  damned  well  rid  of  him, 
after  I  have "  He  stopped. 

"Have  done  what?"  Betty  asked,  breathlessly. 

Keese  replied  slowly,  his  eyes  boring  into  his 
sister's  as  he  did  so : 

"After  I  have  taken  possession  of  what  belongs 
to  me.  After  I  have  made  her  mine ;  and  when  she 
would  not  go  back  to  Harvard  even  if  he  would 
take  her  back — why,  then  I'll  either  kill  him  or  have 
him  killed ;  one  or  the  other.  There  won't  be  room 
enough  in  the  world  for  both  of  us,  afterward." 


CHAPTER    XIX 

AN  ELEMENTAL  PUZZLE 

Lady  Kate  and  Tom  Clancy  left  the  bank  to- 
gether. Tom's  car,  that  had  taken  him  there,  waited 
at  the  door  directly  behind  Katherine's.  But  he 
dismissed  his  own  and  followed  Katherine  into  the 
limousine  after  a  nod  of  friendly  greeting  to  Black 
Julius,  who  had  been  her  faithful  servitor  since  her 
childhood,  and  who  sat  like  an  ebony  statue  under 
the  steering-wheel. 

"Katherine,"  Tom  said  when  they  were  seated 
side  by  side  and  the  car  was  headed  uptown,  "I  am 
in  love.  I — er — don't  suppose  it  surprises  you  so 
very  much  to  hear  me  say  that,  does  it?" 

Lady  Kate  threw  a  bright  smile  at  him  and  re- 
plied gently: 

"It  does  not  surprise  me  at  all,  Tom;  and  it 
pleases  me  greatly.  Why,  it  has  been  printed  all 
over  you  as  big  as  a  signboard  ever  since  the  mo- 
ment you  looked  into  Betty's  eyes.  I  knew  even 
then  that  the  little  god  had  made  a  bull's-eye.  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  rather  thought  it  would  be  so, 
from  the  moment  I  knew  that  Betty  was  coming." 

Tom  nodded  his  head  with  silent  emphasis. 
Presently  he  said: 

"Cupid  does  not  always  shoot  both  ways  at  once, 
does  he?" 

149 


150      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Meaning — ?"  she  inquired,  raising  her  brows. 

"Meaning  this,  Katherine:  I  am  wondering  if 
the  little  chap  scored  a  bull's-eye  for  me,  as  well  as 
on  me?" 

"  Taint  heart/  Tom;  you  know  the  rest  of  it." 

"Sure.  And  I'm  not  faint-hearted;  you  know 
that.  And  I  am  not  worrying  particularly  about 
that  other  bull's-eye,  either,  for  I  mean  that  it  shall 
be  one  before  very  long,  if  it  isn't  so  already.  So 
there !"  he  concluded  with  a  light  laugh. 

"Modesty  is  not  your  hazard,  at  all  events,"  she 
returned,  smiling  again. 

"Katherine" — he  turned  his  head  and  looked 
straight  into  her  eyes — "I  am  in  love  with  Betty 
Keese.  I  knew  I  was  in  love  with  her  before  I  had 
walked  a  block  that  morning  after  I  left  you  two 
at  the  entrance  to  the  Pennsylvania  station.  I 
know,  too,  that  a  man  doesn't  get  it  in  the  neck — 
I  mean  in  the  heart,  of  course — like  that,  without 
the  shock  being  mutual ;  or  reasonably  close  to  mu- 
tuality, anyhow." 

"Modesty,  Tom,  as  I  have  already  observed " 

"Never  mind  the  'modesty'  part  of  it,  Katherine. 
There  isn't  any  of  that  kind  of  modesty  in  the 
game,  when  a  chap  is  in  love — the  way  I  am.  But 
the  circumstance,  take  it  all  in  all,  places  me  in 
rather  a  peculiar  position  toward  you.  That  is  what 
I  am  leading  up  to,  Mrs.  Bingham  Harvard,  if 
anybody  should  ride  in  on  a  biplane  and  ask  you." 

"Toward  me?"  Katherine  stared  at  him  in  en- 
tire uncomprehension. 

"Uh-huh."      He    nodded.      Then    he    grinned. 


AN   ELEMENTAL    PUZZLE  151 

"When  you  introduced  me  to  Betty  you  said  that 
she  was  a  sister  in  everything  but  the  blood-tie. 
You  stated,  also,  if  I  remember  correctly,  that  she 
stood  in  the  same  relation  to  you  that  I  do  to  Bing. 
Well,  then,  if  Betty  and  you  are  sisters,  and,  by  the 
same  axiom  if  Bing  and  I  are  brothers,  that  makes 
you  my  double-sister,  doesn't  it?" 

"You  are  not  very  clear,  Tom,  but  I  will  admit 
that  it  does,  in  order  to  hear  what  more  you  may 
have  to  offer  on  the  point." 

Tom  absently  took  a  cigar  from  his  pocket,  bit 
off  the  end  of  it,  returned  it  to  his  waistcoat,  and 
replied : 

"I  am  going  to  talk  to  you,  Katherine,  exactly 
as  if  you  actually  were  my  sister;  precisely  from 
the  standpoint  of  a  real  brother.  If  you  do  not 
happen  to  like  what  I  say — you  won't  like  it ;  that's 
all. 

"It  begins  with  this  statement:  That  brother 
of  Betty's  is  not  a  healthful  and  wholesome  chap 
to  have  around  your  fireside." 

Katherine's  lips  parted.  Her  eyes  dilated  with 
surprise.  She  was  on  the  point  of  replying  when 
he  interrupted  her. 

"Wait  a  moment,  little  lady,"  he  said.  "Let  me 
get  this  out  of  my  system  before  you  butt  in.  If  I 
were  not  exactly  what  I  am,  to  you,  and  to  Bing — 
and,  I  guess,  to  Betty,  too — I  don't  suppose  that  I 
would  have  seen  or  noticed  a  thing.  But,  being 
just  what  I  am,  to  all  of  you,  I  get  a  viewpoint 
from  four  sides  at  once.  See?" 

She  made  no  reply,  and  he  went  on : 


152      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"I  take  a  squint  at  Benton  Keese — and  I  see  a 
whole  lot.  I  throw  a  side-glance  at  Betty,  when 
she  is  not  aware  of  it,  and  when  she  is  stealing  a 
look  at  her  precious  brother — and  I  see  a  whole  lot 
more.  I  turn  my  eyes  in  your  direction,  and — 
well — I  read  another  hidden  chapter.  Then,  Kath- 
erine,  when  I  make  a  composite,  mental  picture  of 
the  whole  shooting  match  I'm  scared  stiff.  And  it 
is  not  that  handsome  he-cat  that  scares  me,  nor 
what  I  read  in  Betty's  mind.  It's  you." 

"I?" 

"Yes.  You  are  afraid  of  him.  I  wouldn't  dare  to 
say  this  if  I  weren't  your  'double-brother.'  But  you 
are  afraid  of  Benton  Keese.  And  you  are  not  one 
to  be  afraid  of  anything  without  good  and  suffi- 
cient reason.  Now,  little  lady,  I  want  you  to  forget 
everything  except  that  I  am  just  what  I  am  to  you 
and  Bing,  and  tell  me  exactly  what  it  is  that  you 
are  afraid  of.  Wheeew!  Maybe  you  think  it  did 
not  take  some  courage  to  get  that  off  my  chest!" 

His  attempt  at  levity  passed  unnoticed.  Kath- 
erine  stared  straight  ahead  of  her  at  nothing  dur- 
ing a  considerable  interval  before  she  replied.  Then 
she  said,  almost  inaudibly,  and  with  hesitation : 

"I— do  not— know." 

"You  admit  that  you  are  afraid  of  him?" 

"N-no.  Not  exactly  that.  No ;  I  am  not  afraid 
of  him."  She  still  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  with 
evident  hesitancy;  but  it  was  the  hesitation  of  un- 
certainty, not  of  reluctance. 

"Then— what  is  it?" 


AN    ELEMENTAL    PUZZLE  153 

"I  don't  know,  Tom."  Katherine's  eyes  still 
stared  straight  ahead  of  her. 

"You  do  know,  don't  you,  that  the  man  is  madly 
in  love  with  you?  His  kind  of  love?" 

"His  kind  of  love — yes."  She  nodded  with  con- 
viction. "Only — I  do  not  know  the  kind.  It  is 
utterly  strange  to  me.  It  always  frightened  me. 
My  fear  of  him — if  it  is  fear  that  I  feel — must  be 
due  to  the  force  of  habit.  I  can  account  for  it  in 
no  other  way,  Tom." 

"Habit?" 

"I  was  afraid  of  him,  always,  when  I  was  a 
child.  I  dreaded  his  presence — and  flew  into  it  the 
instant  he  appeared.  He  is  five  years  older  than 
Betty  is — than  I  am.  When  I  was  five  and  he  was 
ten,  I  was  horribly  afraid  of  him.  When  I  was 
ten  and  he  was  fifteen,  it  was  the  same,  only  more 
so.  But  he  fascinated  me,  always,  if  he  chose  to 
do  so." 

"And — does  so,  now?" 

"No.  Not  that — unless  it  may  be  that  form  of 
abnormal  fascination  which  is  attracted  by  things 
that  are  most  repulsive." 

"How  was  it  when  you  were  still  older?  When 
you  were  fifteen  and  he  was  twenty?  And  after- 
ward, until  your  parents  wanted  you  to  marry  him, 
and  you  ran  away?" 

Katherine  turned  her  eyes  to  Tom's  for  the  first 
time  since  the  beginning  of  the  subject. 

"I  hated  him,"  she  said  with  half -breathless  ve- 
hemence. "He  made  my  flesh  creep,  and  my  hands 
cold,  and  my  cheeks  flush — and  my  heart  throb 


154      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

with  anger,  every  time  he  looked  at  me.  He  had  a 
way  with  him  that " 

"Please  go  on,"  said  Tom. 

"I  can't.  I  don't  know  how  to  continue.  It  is 
all  so  inexplicable." 

"He  has  a  way  with  him  still,  has  he  not,  when 
he  is  near  you?  When  he  looks  at  you?" 

"I  am — afraid — that  he  has — Tom." 

"How  does  it  affect  you?  Can  you  tell  me  that 
much?" 

"No.  I  do  not  know.  It's  a  mixture  of  attrac- 
tion and  repulsion:  of  liking  and  of  loathing.  It 
attracts  me  by  its  very  bale  fulness.  It  is  utterly 
fearsome  while  it  fascinates.  It  is  like  looking 
into  the  vortex  of  a  terrific  conflagration  and  long- 
ing to  approach  it  for  a  nearer  view,  yet  knowing 
that  the  touch  of  it  will  consume  and  destroy.  Do 
you  understand  it,  Tom?  Can  you  explain  it  for 
me?" 

"Is  it,  do  you  think,  a  form  of  hypnotic  influ- 
ence?" he  asked,  without  replying  to  her  question. 

But  she  shook  her  head  instantly  and  with  de- 
cision. 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  said.  "It  is  not  even  mental 
suggestion.  It  is  not  mental  at  all.  It  is  not  phys- 
ical. Mentally,  physically,  spiritually,  I  utterly 
loathe  the  man.  It  is  primordial;  elemental.  It 
is "  She  stopped  again. 

"Well?"  Tom  encouraged  her. 

"Tom  Clancy,  if  there  were  such  a  thing  as  rein- 
carnation— if  I  could  accept  the  theory  of  pre- 
existence — I  would  readily  believe  that  Benton 


ELEMENTAL    PUZZLE  155 

Keese  and  I  had  known  each  other  and  loved  or 
hated  each  other,  then;  and  that  one  of  us  had 
murdered  the  other;  and  that  (I  almost  hate  my- 
self for  saying  it,  even  to  you,  Tom)  history  is  try- 
ing now  to  repeat  itself.  He  attracts  me,  he  pulls 
me,  he  draws  me  to  him,  in  spite  of  myself,  but 
the  impulse  that  is  upon  me  at  such  moments  is  to 
strike,  to  destroy,  to  kill." 

"Good  God,  Katherine!"  Clancy  exclaimed,  as- 
tounded. 

"I  tell  you  it  is  elemental.  And  it  is  nothing  that 
is  even  remotely  akin  to  love,  or  that  ever  could 
have  been,  even  in  that  chimerical  past  existence. 
It  is  hate — diabolical,  relentless,  chaotic,  destroying 
hate.  Love  is  one  great  extremity  of  life.  Hate  is 
the  other — it's  opposite.  The  second  is  as  positive 
in  its  attraction  as  the  first." 

"By  Jove !"  Tom  said  under  his  breath  and  leaned 
back  against  the  cushions. 

Then :  "The  danger  is  not  exactly  what  I  feared 
it  might  be,  little  lady,  but  it  is  just  as  great — or 
greater,  even.  For,  take  it  from  me,  Katherine,  it 
is  not  the  second  one  of  those  two  extremes  that  he 
feels.  It  is  the  first  one.  He  is  the  one  who  is  in 
danger;  not  you.  And  upon  my  word,  just  now 
when  you  said  what  you  did,  you  looked — and 
spoke,  too — as  if  you  might  strike  and  destroy  and 
kill  if  he  should  ever  thrust  himself  across  the  divid- 
ing line." 

Katherine  bent  nearer  to  him.  She  rested  one 
hand  gently  upon  his  arm.  She  spoke  with  intense 
earnestness. 


*56      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"You  have  opened  my  eyes,  Tom,"  she  said  qui- 
etly. "You  have  made  me  understand  at  last  what 
it  is  that  I  fear.  I  am  afraid  that  he  will  attempt 
to  cross  that  dividing  line  and  that  the  elemental 
feminine  within  me  will  destroy  him  if  he  does  so." 

The  car  drew  up  at  the  curb  in  front  of  Kath- 
erine's  home  and  stopped.  Another  that  had  ap- 
proached from  the  opposite  direction  did  the  same 
at  the  identical  moment.  As  they  stepped  down  to 
the  pavement  Benton  Keese  and  Betty  did  likewise 
from  the  other  car.  The  four  entered  the  house 
together. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE  SWEETEST  STORY  EVER  TOLD 

"Miss  Betty,  were  you  ever  in  love?" 

Tom  asked  the  question  softly.  Betty  was  seated 
at  the  piano  with  her  fingers  running  lightly  over 
the  keys  and  improvising  the  harmony  they  pro- 
duced. Her  shapely  chin  was  tilted  slightly  upward 
so  that  her  exquisite  face  was  in  full  view  of  his 
devouring  eyes  and  her  lips  were  parted  in  a  half 
smile  which  set  her  dimples  a  winking  mischiev- 
ously. 

"Oh,  heaps  of  times !"  she  assured  him  roguishly. 
"I  cannot  even  remember  all  of  the  times." 

"In  that  case,"  Tom  said  with  calm  conviction, 
"you  will  know  exactly  how  to  sympathize  with  a 
poor  chap  who  suddenly  finds  himself  in  that  pre- 
dicament." 

"Is  it  a  predicament?"  Betty  inquired  archly, 
while  her  fingers  strayed  into  the  refrain  of  a  love- 
song. 

"Quite  so."  Tom  nodded  his  head  with  un- 
doubted emphasis.  But  he  held  to  his  position  at 
the  end  of  the  piano  and  nothing  in  his  attitude 
or  manner  betrayed  the  earnestness  of  his  words. 
He  wondered  if  Betty  intended  that  the  air  she 
was  playing  to  be  significant  of  her  attitude — or  if 
she  was  merely  making  fun  of  him. 
157 


158      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Benton  Keese,  at  the  far  end  of  the  room,  was 
idly  turning  the  loose  leaves  of  a  portfolio.  Both 
he  and  Tom  had  been  asked  to  remain  for  dinner, 
and  the  arrival  of  Bingham  Harvard  was  momen- 
tarily expected.  Katherine  was  temporarily  absent 
from  the  room. 

Betty  played  on  for  a  time  without  response. 
Then 

"Who  is  the  poor  chap  to  whom  you  refer  ?"  she 

asked,  bending  slightly  forward  over  the  keyboard 

— but  not  so  far  as  to  prevent  Tom  from  seeing  the 

,  deeper  color  that  had  flooded  the  shapely  cheek  and 

chin. 

"I  am,"  he  replied  boldly,  still  holding  to  his  dis- 
tance— but  doing  it  with  evident  difficulty,  as  the 
enforced  rigidity  of  his  upright  pose  sufficiently 
demonstrated. 

Betty's  fingers  strayed  again.  This  time  they 
touched  upon  another  old-time  melody  which  every- 
body whistled  and  sang  only  a  few  years  ago. 

"Love  me,  and  the  world  is  mine,"  Betty's  fingers 
said  to  him;  and  he  had  the  almost  ungovernable 
impulse  to  seize  her,  to  lift  her  from  the  piano  stool, 
and  to  crush  her  warm  and  supple  body  against 
his  own.  But  he  succeeded  in  resisting  it. 

She  was  silent  again  until  she  had  played  nearly 
through  the  once  popular  song.  Then,  with  face 
and  eyes  averted,  she  asked,  in  so  low  a  tone  that 
he  barely  heard  the  words : 

"Who — is — the — the  other  one?" 

"You  are,"  he  replied  instantly. 

Crash!     Betty's  slender  fingers  fell  upon  chord 


SWEETEST  STORY  EVER   TOLD     159 

after  chord  of  harmony,  each  one  softer  and  yet 
fuller  than  that  which  had  preceded  it,  and  her  tap- 
ering, dainty  fingers,  directed  by  her  whimsical  but 
receptive  mood,  modulated  from  key  to  key  until 
with  the  delicacy  of  a  subconscious  thought  they 
drifted  into  the  air  of  De  Koven's  "Oh,  promise 
me !"  She  bent  still  lower  over  the  piano  while  her 
hands  found  the  notes  that  seemed  to  be  intended 
for  her  answer  to  him. 

Tom  Clancy's  face  became,  for  an  instant,  as  pale 
as  wax.  He  held  himself  in  hand  with  difficulty. 
It  was  hardly  possible  to  mistake  her  meaning, 
then. 

"Do  you  mean  it,  Betty?"  he  demanded  breath- 
lessly, bending  a  trifle  nearer  to  her  in  spite  of  him- 
self. "Do  you  mean  it,  dear?"  he  went  on,  recov- 
ering in  part  his  mental  equilibrium,  and  stoically 
condemning  himself  not  to  betray  by  a  single  act 
the  near-tragedy  of  the  situation.  For  he  knew, 
without  looking  in  that  direction,  that  the  eyes  of 
Benton  Keese  were  watching  them,  and  he  realized 
that  what  Katherine  had  been  enabled  to  see  so 
plainly  must  also  have  been  discernible  to  Betty's 
keenly  observant  brother. 

"Do  you  mean  all  that  the  music  tells  me?"  he 
asked  yet  again.  "I  know  that  it  is  awfully  soon 
for  me  to  tell  you  about  it ;  but — but- — I  could  have 
told  you  the  very  same  thing  even  before  I  let  go 
of  your  hand  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  you,  down 
at  the  Pennsylvania  station. 

"I  knew  it  then ;  right  then.  Honest,  I  did.  And 
I  told  Katherine  all  about  it  only  a  few  minutes 


160      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

ago,  while  Julius  was  bringing  us  here  in  the  car. 
And  she  thought  that — maybe — you  liked  me  a  little 
bit,  you  know.  Betty,  won't  you  look  at  me,  please  ? 
Won't  you  raise  your  eyes  to  mine  just  once,  if  it's 
only  for  an  instant?  I'll  fly  into  little  pieces  in  a 
moment  more,  if  you  don't.  My  heart  is  swelling 
so  that  it  will  explode  like  a  stick  of  dynamite  in 
another  minute  unless  you  look  at  me,  of  say  some- 
thing. I  love  you,  little  Betty;  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul  and  strength  I  love  you.  And  you  know 
it,  too.  You  have  known  it  as  well  as  I  have,  since 
three  days  ago,  when  /  found  it  out,  all  in  a  blessed 
minute." 

She  did  not  look  at  him,  just  then,  in  response  to 
his  plea.  She  did  not  dare.  Possibly  she  realized 
that  if  she  did  so,  she  would,  herself,  betray  to  her 
vigilant  brother  the  very  thing  that  Tom  was  trying 
so  hard  to  conceal.  But  her  ringers  strayed  over  the 
piano  keys  into  the  melody  of  a  still  older  song — 
"Because  it's  you";  and  he  mentally  repeated  the 
first  verse  of  it  in  response  to  the  touch  of  her 
singing  fingers: 

"If  I  could  have  my  dearest  wish  fulfilled, 

And  take  my  choice  of  all  earth's  treasures,  too; 

And  ask  of  Heaven  what  so  e'er  I  willed — 
I'd  ask  for  you." 

"Betty !  Oh,  Betty !"  he  fairly  gasped  in  the  ex- 
cess of  his  pent-up  emotions  "Is  that  your  answer? 
Is  it?  Tell  me.  Look  up  at  me  and  tell  me,  or  I 
will " 


SWEETEST  STORY  EVER   TOLD      161 

She  obeyed  him.  Her  eyes,  moist,  limpid,  yet 
wondrously  alight  and  shining  through  the  love- 
mist  in  them,  sought  his  own,  found  them,  and 
rested  there  for  a  moment,  rapturously.  He  read 
her  answer  there,  in  the  warm  glow  of  them,  in  the 
flush  upon  her  cheeks,  in  the  slightly  parted  lips, 
in  her  quickened  breathing,  in  the  suffusing  warmth 
of  her  pulsing  nearness — and  in  his  own  hammer- 
ing heart-beats  which  responded  so  utterly. 

Tom  Clancy  knew,  then.  There  was  no  need  for 
Betty  to  speak.  A  great  sigh  of  supreme  content 
welled  within  him.  The  great  impulse  of  convic- 
tion, of  certainty,  overwhelmed  him — and  steadied 
him,  too.  And  again,  while  he  struggled  to  con- 
tain himself,  Betty's  fingers  sought  out  and  re- 
peated to  him  the  last  bars  of  "It  is  the  sweetest 
story  ever  told."  It  was  almost  too  much.  There 
is  no  telling  what  might  have  happened  then  had 
not  an  interruption  occurred. 

The  door  opened  and  Bingham  Harvard  came 
into  the  room.  Katherine  was  beside  him.  Betty 
swung  the  stool  around  so  that  she  faced  away  from 
Tom — whose  eyes  she  dared  not  meet  again  just 
then — and  left  the  piano.  Benton  Keese  got  lazily 
upon  his  feet  in  greeting.  Clancy  crossed  the  room 
quickly  and  drew  Lady  Kate  aside,  leading  her 
away  from  the  others,  so  that,  for  her  ears  alone, 
he  might  safely  turn  on  the  "exhaust."  He  felt  that 
some  sort  of  a  safety  valve  had  to  "pop,"  or  that 
he  would  burst  with  the  wonder  of  it  all. 

"I've  told  her,  Katherine/'  he  whispered  fiercely. 
"I've  won.  I  have  got  her — or  she  has  got  me; 


162      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

or Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  It  is  all 

right,  anyhow.  Glory  be,  Lady  Kate!  I  am  the 
happiest  man  outside  of  heaven." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Tom  Clancy,  that  you 
have  been  proposing  to  Betty  right  here  in  this 
room,  in  the  presence  of  her  brother?"  Katherine 
asked  composedly. 

"Uh-huh.  Honest.  I  couldn't  help  it.  It  just 
had  to  come  out  over  there  by  the  piano.  And  she, 
bless  her  dear  heart !  answered  me  with  her  fingers." 

"Really?  I  did  not  know  that  either  of  you 
understood  the  deaf  and  dumb  alpha " 

"Deaf  and  dumb  nothing!  She  played  to  me. 
And  then,  after  a  little,  she  looked  at  me.  Say, 
Lady,  I've  got  to  hug  somebody.  Can't  I  hug  you  ? 
Eh?  Or — I'll  tell  you  what!  You  go  over  there 
where  she  is,  and  take  her  aside,  and  put  your  arms 
around  her,  and  kiss  her  on  both  cheeks,  for  me, 
will  you?  And  you  tell  her  in  a  whisper  to  look 
over  your  shoulder  at  me  while  you  are  doing  it. 
Go  on!  Please!  I  want  you  to.  Good  heavens, 
Katherine,  what  a  wonderful  thing  it  is,  isn't  it  ?" 

But  Katherine  had  already  turned  away  to  do 
his  bidding.  Tom  watched  her.  He  saw  her  put 
an  arm  around  Betty  and  draw  her  aside  just  as 
Harvard  left  the  room  to  seek  his  own.  For  the 
moment  Tom  forgot  that  Benton  Keese  was  some- 
where behind  him.  He  had  eyes  only  for  Betty, 
who  was  at  that  ins.tant  peering  at  him  over  Kath- 
erine's  shoulder.  And  her  own  eyes  sparkled  won- 
drously,  her  cheeks  were  red  and  rosy,  her  lips  were 
parted  ever  so  little  in  a  half -roguish  smile  which 


SWEETEST  STORY  EVER   TOLD     163 

Tom  thought  was  the  most  bewitching  and  alluring 
thing  he  had  ever  seen.  He  could  scarcely  contain 
himself.  He  was  tense  in  his  attitude,  poised,  and 
with  his  body  bent  slightly  forward  as  if  he  were 
on  the  very  point  of  leaping  forward  to  seize  her. 
And  then  he  was  jerked  back  to  earth  again  with 
a  jar  and  a  shock  that  suddenly  aroused  every  im- 
pulse of  fierce  resentment  that  was  in  him.  The 
quiet,  insinuating,  perfectly  modulated  voice  of 
Benton  Keese  spoke  to  him  from  directly  behind. 

"You  are  a  regular  steeple-chaser  in  your  love- 
hunting;  eh,  Clancy?  And  you  take  hurdles  and 
blind  ditches  without  a  thought  of  the  consequences, 
I  observe,"  Keese  said. 

"That  was  an  entertaining  tableau  at  the  piano; 
and  very  prettily  done.  But,  Betty  always  does  it 
to  perfection.  God  knows  that  she  has  had  prac- 
tice enough." 


CHAPTER    XXI 

AGAIN  THAT    CHILTON   PICTURE 

Clancy  controlled  the  angry  impulse  he  felt,  even 
while  he  turned  about  to  face  Benton  Keese ;  and  he 
compelled  himself  to  perform  that  act  very  slowly 
indeed.  Tom's  impetuosity  was  a  good  deal  like 
Theodore  Roosevelt's ;  his  brain  thought  much  more 
quickly,  always,  than  he  acted. 

"It  was  rather  well  done,  wasn't  it?"  he  replied 
genially.  "I  thought  so  myself." 

Keese  nodded,  a  slow  smile  twitching  at  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  his  eyes  glowing  inscrutably. 

"If  you  perhaps  had  been  supplied  with  a  har- 
monica, Clancy,  the  scene  would  have  been  almost  a 
wordless  recitative,"  he  said.  "But  I  suspect  that 
you  are  very  much  in  earnest — most  men  are  when 
they  run  up  against  Betty — and  so  T  suggest  that 
you  use  your  glasses  to  study  the  field  a  bit  care- 
fully before  you  take  all  of  the  jumps." 

Tom's  eyes  narrowed.  Lady  Kate  and  Betty, 
with  their  arms  around  each  other,  were  crossing 
the  room  toward  them.  He  replied  rapidly,  and  in 
a  low  tone: 

"Your  metaphor,  Mr.  Keese,  reminds  me  that  in 
the  hunting  field  one  is  more  prone  to  warn  another 
rider  of  danger,  when  he  sees  ahead  of  him  a  bad 
jump  for  his  own  mount.  To  stick  to  the  meta- 

164 


AGAIN  THAT  CHILTON  PICTURE    165 

phor,  'Look  out  that  you  don't  fetch  a  cropper  your- 
self.' " 

Keese  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  there  was  a 
strange  and  ominous  gleam  in  the  depths  of  his 
red-brown  eyes  as  he  replied,  showing  his  white 
teeth  as  he  said  it : 

"Oh,  my  mount  will  take  me  safely  over.  I  fear 
only  for  those  who  may  foolishly  attempt  to  follow 
me.  We  were  speaking  of  the  hunting-field,  Betty," 
he  added  lazily  to  his  sister.  "I  was  telling  Mr. 
Clancy  about  that  old  trick  of  yours  of  leading  the 
chase  to  the  most  dangerous  jumps,  and  then  fall- 
ing— so  that  you  might  safely  jeer  at  your  pursuers 
when  they  floundered  in  the  ditch." 

The  double  meaning  of  what  he  said  compelled 
itself  upon  each  of  his  listeners,  although  they  were 
differently  impressed.  And  Keese,  who  flew  from 
one  conversational  twig  to  another  with  the  ease 
and  cocksureness  of  a  sparrow,  added : 

"All  of  which  reminds  me  that  it  has  been  a  long 
time  since  I  rode  to  hounds.  And  I  pine  for  it. 
Really." 

Harvard  returned  to  the  room  at  that  instant, 
and,  hearing  what  was  said,  replied  instantly : 

"The  Forestbrook  club  will  hold  a  meet  this 
coming  Thursday,  Mr.  Keese.  Katherine  will  be 
glad  to  attend,  I  know;  and  I  guess  that  Tom 
can  do  the  honors  of  the  day.  Unfortunately  I 
won't  be  able  to  go  myself.  But  I  can  join  you 
later;  in  time  for  the  dinner." 

"I  should  like  it  very  much,  indeed,"  Keese  re- 


166      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

plied  readily.  "Nothing  would  please  me  more  than 
that" 

"And  you,  Miss  Betty?"  Bingham  asked. 

"Oh,  I  should  just  love  it!" 

"And  you,  Tom?  Can  you  manage  it  to  act  as 
host  for  that  day?" 

"Sure.  I'll  declare  a  bank-holiday,  so  far  as  I 
am  concerned." 

"And  we  can  fit  you  out  with  mounts,  and  every- 
thing that  is  needed,"  Harvard  added,  "so  we  will 
declare  it  settled." 

Until  dinner  was  served,  during  it,  and  after- 
ward, Tom  Clancy  found  not  a  single  moment  or 
opportunity  for  a  word  alone  with  Betty,  although 
he  resorted  to  every  expedient  he  could  think  of,  or 
create,  in  order  to  accomplish  it.  He  was  per- 
fectly aware  that  Betty  sought  to  avoid  it,  too ;  but 
not,  he  readily  surmised,  because  she  dreaded  it  or 
even  wished  to  postpone  it,  but  on  account  of  the 
proximity  of  her  brother,  and  his  evident  under- 
standing of  the  situation.  Their  eyes  sought  each 
other's  frequently,  nevertheless,  and  flashes  of  en- 
tire comprehension  of  the  occasion  were  exchanged 
between  them. 

Katherine  watched  them  demurely,  and  won- 
dered how  either  of  them  could  suppose  that  the 
situation  was  not  thoroughly  understood  by  Betty's 
brother  and  her  own  husband.  The  truth  she 
thought  was  plainly  enough  depicted  upon  the  faces 
and  in  the  eyes  of  the  lovers  whenever  their  glances 
met. 

In  the  library,  after  the  informal  meal,  Benton 


AGAIN  THAT  CHILTON  PICTURE    167 

Keese  sought  the  company  of  Bingham  Harvard, 
and  they  chatted  together  upon  various  topics,  un- 
til the  young  bank  president  remarked  apropos  of 
nothing  in  particular: 

"It  is  rather  odd,  Mr.  Keese,  that  ever  since  your 
first  appearance  among  us  I  have  had  the  strange 
sensation  of  having  met  you  before,  somewhere — 
although  I  know  quite  well  that  it  cannot  be  so." 

"Indeed?"  Keese  replied  indifferently.  "It  is,  I 
suppose,  some  vague  resemblance  to  another,  whom 
you  have  encountered  somewhere;  and  yet,  that 
other  man  may  not  at  all  resemble  me,  nor  I  him." 

"Quite  so,"  Harvard  assented,  nodding. 

"It  is  the  old  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  idea  that 
when  John  and  Thomas  meet  and  converse  six  peo- 
ple are  talking:  John,  as  John  thinks  he  is;  John 
as  Thomas  thinks  he  is;  and  John  as  God  knows 
he  is — and  so  on,  vice  versa,  et  cetera,  and  all  the 
rest  of  it.  Eh?" 

"Doubtless.  My  lifelong  bank-training  has 
taught  me  to  remember  personalities,  rather  than 
faces  and  features.  It  is  something  about  your 
personality  that  seems  familiar  to  me." 

"Oh!  I  see.  Well,  I  think  I  can  account  for 
that,  Harvard.  It  is  quite  simple." 

"Yes?" 

"It  is  the  personality  of  the  Southerner.  We  are 
all  very  much  alike  in  many  of  our  characteristics, 
you  know,  no  matter  how  greatly  we  may  differ 
in  the  concrete.  All  Southerners  possess  identical 
traits  which  are  never  entirely  eradicated  in  another 
environment.  For  example :  your  wife  and  I  were 


168      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

raised — as  we  express  it — in  the  same  county  and 
among  the  same  people.  Practically,  although  I 
am  older,  as  you  know,  we  were  children  and  play- 
mates together;  and  so  the  familiar  notes  that  I 
have  struck  in  your  memory  are  the  harmonizing 
notes  of  Fayette  County,  Kentucky,  which  constant 
association  with  Katherine  has  taught  you  to  recog- 
nize." 

"Probably  that  accounts  for  it,"  Harvard  ad- 
mitted, impressed  by  the  suggestion — yet  uncon- 
vinced, although  he  did  not  say  so ;  and  at  that  mo- 
ment there  came  an  interruption. 

Betty  had  been  idly  turning  the  leaves  of  a  book 
that  was  spread  open  upon  her  lap,  and  listening 
abstractedly  to  the  conversation  between  Katherine 
and  Tom,  who  were  seated  near  her.  She  had 
heard  Tom  ask  to  be  shown  again  a  small  photo- 
graph, which  Katherine  presently  gave  to  him. 
Then,  as  their  heads  came  nearer  together,  to  look 
at  it,  she,  too,  bent  forward  to  see  what  it  was. 
And  then  she  saw  that  they  were  not  really  look- 
ing upon  the  picture,  but  into  each  other's  eyes, 
studiously,  earnestly,  thoughtfully,  as  if  each  were 
mutely  asking  a  question  of  the  other — and  as  if 
each  declined  to  express  any  sort  of  a  reply.  The 
first  glance  that  Betty  had  of  the  photograph,  slant- 
ing and  distant,  so  that  the  pose,  rather  than  the  cos- 
tume and  features  depicted  in  the  picture,  impressed 
her,  made  her  start  and  bend  still  nearer,  in  order 
to  look  more  closely  upon  it. 

"Why,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  thought  at  first  that 
it  was  a  picture  of — but  of  course  it  isn't.  I  can 


AGAIN  THAT  CHILTON  PICTURE    169 

see  that  now."  She  reached  out  a  hand,  and  Tom, 
who  held  the  picture,  gave  it  to  her. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  said.  "I  can  see  now  that  it  isn't 
in  the  least  bit  like  him.  But  what  an  odd  costume ! 
Mexican,  isn't  it?" 

She  studied  it  in  silence  for  a  moment,  and  both 
Tom  and  Katherine  watched  her  narrowly,  per- 
haps unconsciously — perhaps  also  intentionally. 
Then  Betty  called  to  her  brother. 

"Benton,  come  here  a  moment!"  she  said,  and 
rose  to  meet  him  halfway.  And  that  was  the  inter- 
ruption referred  to. 

Clancy  rose  also  and  rested  an  elbow  upon  a 
nearby,  high-backed  chair.  Katherine  retained  her 
seat,  but  bent  forward  slightly  upon  it,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  intently  upon  Benton  Keese  as  he  .came 
forward  to  meet  his  sister.  Harvard  raised  his  own 
eyes  indifferently. 

"Were  you  ever  in  Mexico,  Ben?"  Betty  asked, 
with  scarcely  a  pause  between  her  summons  to  him 
and  the  question.  "Look !"  She  thrust  the  picture 
forward  under  his  eyes.  "I  really  thought,  for  just 
an  instant,  that  it  was  you." 

"I  ?"  Keese  replied  smilingly,  and  reached  out  to 
take  possession  of  the  small  photograph,  but  mak- 
ing no  haste  to  look  upon  it.  "I  never  knowingly 
have  had  my  picture  taken  since  I  wore  knicker- 
bockers," he  commented  generally  to  all  of  them. 
And  he  permitted  his  gaze  to  rest  for  the  briefest 
instant  upon  each  face  in  turn  before  he  dropped  it 
to  the  photograph  of  Holbrook  Chilton  that  Betty 
had  put  into  his  hand. 


170      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"Why,  upon  my  word!"  he  exclaimed  at  once, 
and  with  half -excited  earnestness  when  he  did  look 
upon  it. 

Then  he  looked  again  at  his  sister.  "How  did 
you  come  by  this,  Betty?"  he  asked  sharply. 
"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"Kittie  had  it.  T — Mr.  Clancy  just  now  asked 
her  for  it.  I  leaned  over  to  see  what  it  was,  and 
in  the  very  first  glance  there  was  something  about 
it  that  made  me  think  it  was  you." 

"Oh,  yes!  Of  course.  Just  because  we  are  so 
different,  I  suppose,"  her  brother  remarked  with 
irony. 

Harvard's  indifferent  glance  had  become  tense. 
He  left  his  chair  and  stepped  forward  nearer  to 
them.  Keese  was  apparently  interested  in  a  closer 
study  of  the  picture,  and  there  was  a  vaguely  remi- 
niscent smile  upon  his  face  as  he  did  so. 

"Do  you  know  the  gentleman,  Mr.  Keese?" 
Harvard  inquired  calmly. 

"Know  him?  Most  certainly  I  know  him — or, 
rather,  I  did  know  him  some  years  ago.  That  is  a 
picture  of  Holbrook  Chilton,  or  else  I  am  very 
greatly  mistaken,"  and  Benton  Keese  stared  straight 
into  Harvard's  eyes,  as  if  daring  him  to  deny  the 
statement. 

"You  are  quite  right.  It  is  a  picture  of  Holbrook 
Chilton,"  Harvard  said — and  smiled. 

"Sure !  I  knew  that  I  could  not  be  mistaken,  al- 
though the  costume  does  change  him  mightily.  But 
it  is  the  same  man  without  a  doubt.  Is  he  a  friend 
of  yours  by  any  odd  chance,  Harvard?"  He  turned 
toward  Lady  Kate.  "Or  of  yours,  Katherine?" 


AGAIN  THAT  CHILTON  PICTURE    171' 

"He  is  an  acquaintance  of  mine — and  of  Clan- 
cy's," Harvard  interposed  before  his  wife  could 
reply.  "May  I  ask  if  you  have  seen  him  recently? 
Since  your  return  to  this  country?" 

"Oh,  no !  In  fact  I  have  not  seen  or  heard  from 
him  but  once  since  before  I  went  to  China;  and 
even  then  he  was  merely  a  passing  acquaintance, 
so  to  speak.  But  I  liked  the  man  very  much  in- 
deed, considering  how  short  a  time  I  really  knew 
him." 

"Have  you  any  idea  of  his  present  address,  Mr. 
Keese?" 

"No.  I  was  on  the  point  of  asking  you  the  same 
question.  You  see,  we  traveled  together  in  the 
same  Pullman — in  the  same  section,  in  fact,  for 
he  had  the  upper  and  I  the  lower  berth — from 
New  Orleans  to  Los  Angeles.  I  was  on  my  way 
to  California,  with  no  especial  object  in  view.  His 
destination  at  the  time  was  Guaymas,  in  Mexico; 
and,  if  I  remember  correctly,  his  plans  for  the  fu- 
ture were  about  as  indefinite  as  my  own.  We 
parted  after  a  few  days  spent  together  in  Los 
Angeles." 

"You  have  heard  from  him  since  then,  you 
say?" 

"Once;  yes.  It  was  before  I  sailed  from  San 
Francisco.  I  received  a  letter  from  him  at  the 
hotel  address  I  had  given  him  there.  It  was  post- 
marked at  Guaymas.  I  replied  to  it  rather  hastily 
I  suppose,  and  told  him  that  I  was  leaving  for 
China.  Later  I  wrote  to  him  from  Singapore,  but 
I  never  received  a  reply  to  that  letter,  either.  In 


172      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

fact,  I  had  entirely  forgotten  him  until  I  saw  this 
picture.  It  is  a  remarkably  clear  likeness  as  I  re- 
member him — barring  the  costume,  of  course. 
Still,  I  would  have  recognized  it  anywhere." 

"I  am  quite  anxious  to  know  where  he  can  be 
found,"  Harvard  said,  turning  and  resuming  the 
chair  he  had  vacated. 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  help  you  in  that 
respect,"  Keese  replied  thoughtfully  and  with  evi- 
dent concern.  "We  were  merely  traveling  acquain- 
tances, you  know,  and  neither  of  us  was  much  given 
to  personal  confidences.  I  told  him  that  I  was  a 
Kentuckian  and  he  replied  that  he  was  a  Virginian ; 
but  I  have  no  idea  what  part  of  Virginia  he  came 
from." 

Betty  supplied  a  suggestion  then. 

"It  was  probably  Westmoreland  County,  Ben- 
ton,"  she  said,  wrinkling  her  brows  thoughtfully. 
"I  remember  that  papa  used  to  correspond  with  a 
man  who  came  from  there,  whose  name  was  Hoi- 
brook;  and  I  have  a  vague  recollection  of  hearing 
him  mention  the  name  of  Chilton,  too,  although 
I  think  he  referred  to  another  person  when  he  did 
that." 

Keese  nodded. 

"Possibly,"  he  assented  indifferently.  "I  have 
some  faint  remembrance  of  the  sort  myself;  only  it 
isn't  at  all  definite.  However" — he  also  resumed 
his  chair — "one  might  readily  find  out,  I  suppose, 
by  writing  to  several  of  the  local  postmasters  in 
that  locality.  That  is" — he  turned  smilingly  toward 
Harvard  again — "if  you  are  so  very  anxious  to 


AGAIN  THAT  CHILTON  PICTURE     173 

know  about  him.  Everybody  knows  everybody 
else,  and  who  their  grandfathers  and  grandmothers 
were,  in  the  rural  districts  of  the  South.  It  is  odd, 
isn't  it,  that  I  should  find  a  picture  of  him  here?" 

"Quite  so,"  Tom  Clancy  said  dryly.  "To  make 
use  of  an  expression  that  is  frightfully  trite,  the 
world  is  a  small  place — when  one  makes  the  effort 
to  disappear." 

"Oh!"  said  Keese.  "Did  Chilton  do  that?  Did 
he  have  reason  for  doing  it?  Is  that — er — the 
reason  why  you-all  are  so  anxious  to  find  him?  I 
should  suppose,  if  he  sent  that  photograph  to  you, 
Harvard " 

He  halted  in  his  speech  suggestively,  but^  Har- 
vard did  not  supply  the  further  information  as  to 
the  source  of  the  photograph. 

"It  was  taken,  I  think,  by  a  friend  and  without 
his  knowledge,'  Lady  Kate  announced.  She  was 
still  bending  forward,  with  her  chin  resting  in  the 
hollow  of  one  hand,  and  her  eyes  throughout  the 
conversation  concerning  Chilton  had  not  once  wav- 
ered from  her  close  regard  of  Benton  Keese,  al- 
though he  seemed  to  be  entirely  unconscious  of  the 
fact. 

Then,  rising  and  crossing  to  a  chair  beside  her 
husband,  she  added  indifferently:  "Why  did  the 
picture  remind  you  of  Benton,  Betty?" 

"Really,  I  don't  know,  dear,"  Betty  replied 
thoughtfully,  "for  it  isn't  at  all  like  him  when  one 
comes  to  look  closely  at  it.  I  think  it  was  some- 
thing in  the  pose  or  in  the  poise  of  the  head." 

"Probably   that    is    what    impressed    me    also," 


174      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

Katherine  said  absently;  and  Clancy,  who  was  in 
the  act  of  occupying  a  chair  beside  one  that  Betty 
had  taken,  nodded  and  murmured: 

"Me,  too,"  which  was  more  expressive  than 
grammatical. 

Keese,  who  still  held  the  photograph,  reached  out 
and  put  it  down  upon  the  library-table,  and  Har- 
vard picked  it  up  and  began  to  study  it  closely. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  door  was  opened,  and 
Bolton  appeared  at  the  threshold,  where  he  stepped 
aside  to  permit  some  one  to  pass  into  the  room. 

"Mr.  Anderson  Van  Cleve,"  he  announced. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

AN    EXCHANGE    OF    WARNINGS 

"Mr.  Van  Cleve,  let  me  make  you  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Keese,  of  Kentucky;  but  more  recently 
from  China.  And  my  friend  Miss  Keese.  We 
were  schoolmates  and  chums  all  our  lives  until  I 
left  home  to  come  to  New  York." 

So  spoke  Lady  Kate  as  she  stepped  forward  to 
welcome  the  man  from  Mexico. 

Keese  and  Van  Cleve  grasped  hands  perfunc- 
torily and  the  latter  turned  instantly  to  acknowl- 
edge the  second  introduction ;  but  his  keen  eyes  that 
were  always  peculiarly  penetrating  in  their  regard, 
looked  deeply  into  the  red-brown  ones  of  Benton 
Keese,  even  in  that  brief  interval. 

"There  is  no  need  to  ask  if  you  are  sister  and 
brother,  Miss  Keese,"  he  said  genially  to  Betty, 
retaining  for  a  moment  the  hand  she  gave  to  him. 
"The  family  resemblance  is  a  pronounced  one." 

He  selected  a  chair  after  he  had  shaken  hands 
with  Clancy,  and  as  it  happened  to  be  the  one 
nearest  to  Keese,  addressed  his  next  remark  to 
him, 

"Lately  returned  from  China,  have  you,  Mr. 
Keese?"  he  asked  politely.  His  manner  was  that 
of  one  who  was  merely  "making"  conversation; 
and  he  added,  without  awaiting  a  reply:  "I  have 

175 


176      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

recently  returned  from  Mexico,  so  we  are  both 
'foreigners,'  in  a  measure.  The  latter  country  is 
about  as  remote  as  the  former,  in  all  save  dis- 
tance." 

"I  have  never  visited  Mexico,  so  I  could  not  pass 
as  an  authority  on  that  point,"  Keese  replied. 

"Mr.  Keese  knows  our  friend  Holbrook  Chil- 
ton,"  Tom  Clancy  remarked  in  a  casual  tone.  "We 
were  just  looking  at  that  picture  you  took  of  him, 
in  Guerrero,  and  he  recognized  it  at  once." 

Van  Cleve,  whose  gaze  had  transferred  itself  to 
Clancy  when  the  latter  spoke,  returned  it  again  to 
Keese  with  an  expression  of  polite  surprise. 

"Indeed?"  he  said,  mildly.  "Chilton  was  my 
superintendent  and  general  manager,  in  Mexico. 
He  was  originally  a  Southerner,  like  yourself,  I 
believe.  From  Virginia,  I  think  he  told  me." 

Keese  nodded.  "Yes;  that  is  what  he  told  me. 
Mr.  Clancy  conveyed  a  wrong  impression,  I 
imagine,  in  his  statement.  I  do  not  know  Mr.  Chil- 
ton in  the  sense  that  was  implied.  We  were  merely 
traveling  acquaintances  between  New  Orleans  and 
Los  Angeles,  and  for  a  few  days  after  our  arrival 
at  the  latter  place." 

"You  found  him  an  interesting  companion,  I 
have  no  doubt?"  Van  Cleve  suggested. 

"Quite  so.  I  expressed  the  wish  to  renew  my 
acquaintance  with  him,  as  soon  as  the  photograph 
restored  him  to  memory.  But  I  had  quite  forgot- 
ten him.  Do  you,  perhaps,  know  where  he  is  now, 
Mr.  Van  Cleve?" 

"No.      Chilton  has   disappeared — unfortunately. 


AN  EXCHANGE  OF   WARNINGS      177 

But — I  think  I  shall  hear  from  him  again,  some- 
time." 

"Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  Katherine  interposed  at  that 
moment,  "we  had  arranged,  just  before  you  came, 
to  attend  the  'meet'  of  the  Forestbrook  Hunt  Club, 
next  Thursday.  Could  you  make  it  possible  to  be 
one  of  us?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  Mrs.  Harvard,  much  as  I 
would  like  to  do  so.  But  the  fact  is " 

"Mr.  Van  Cleve  has  an  engagement  with  me  for 
that  afternoon,  Katherine,"  Harvard  said  when  his 
guest  hesitated.  "But  I  will  take  him  down  with 
me  when  7  go." 

He  turned  to  Van  Cleve.  "I  had  already  agreed 
to  join  them  in  time  for  the  dinner.  There  is  noth- 
ing to  prevent  you  from  going  down  with  me,  is 
there?" 

"No.  No,  indeed.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  da 
that  after  we  have  transacted  our  business." 

The  turn  that  the  conversation  had  taken  re- 
minded Katherine  suddenly  of  a  fact  that  had 
entirely  escaped  her  until  that  moment,  and  the 
thought  of  it  sent  a  vivid  flush  to  her  face  which 
receded  as  quickly  as  it  had  appeared,  and  left  it, 
for  an  instant  only,  white  and  scared.  The  ar- 
rangement, as  it  stood,  paired  her — irrevocably 
paired  her — with  Benton  Keese  for  the  afternoon's 
cross-country  ride;  and  now,  when  it  was  all  too 
late,  she  realized  that  there  was  no  possible  way  to 
avoid  it;  at  least  not  without  exciting  surprise,  if 
not  actual  comment,  from  Bingham.  She  knew, 
the  moment  it  occurred  to  her,  that  Benton  Keese 


would  make  every  effort  to  keep  close  to  her  dur- 
ing the  fox  hunt,  and  notwithstanding  the  half- 
confidences  that  she  had  exchanged  with  Clancy 
and  the  conversation  she  had  had  with  Betty  on  the 
same  topic,  she  knew  that  those  two  would  forget 
everybody  else  but  themselves  that  day. 

Lifting  her  glance  she  discovered  that  Keese  was 
regarding  her  steadily,  and  that  his  eyes  were  shin- 
ing stealthily,  as  if  he  intended  to  convey  to  her 
a  silent  message  of  comprehension  which  he  did  not 
wish  the  others  to  observe.  And  again  the  flush 
leaped  into  her  face.  She  felt,  for  the  moment,  as 
if  she  had  tacitly  accepted  the  arrangement  which, 
as  she  now  saw  clearly,  was  directly  the  consequence 
of  Benton  Keese's  subtle  arts.  To  her  intense  re- 
lief he  left  his  chair  at  that  moment  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  he  must  go,  much  as  he  regretted 
to  do  so ;  and  Clancy,  who  was  torn  by  several  con- 
flicting desires,  surrendered  to  the  one  which  he 
considered  to  be  his  plain  duty,  and  said,  as  he  got 
upon  his  feet : 

"I'll  chase  along  with  you,  Keese." 

He  caught  what  he  chose  to  consider  a  reproach- 
ful glance  from  Betty,  although  in  reality  it  was 
merely  one  of  surprise;  and  in  another  moment 
the  two  men  were  in  the  street. 

"Odd,  isn't  it,  that  you  should  happen  to  have 
known  Chilton?"  Tom  remarked  after  he  had 
lighted  a  cigar  and  they  were  pacing  leisurely  down 
the  avenue  side  by  side. 

"Is  it?"  Keese  replied  lazily.  He  had  declined 
Clancy's  offer  of  a  cigar  and  had  lighted  an  Egyp- 


AN  EXCHANGE  OF   WARNINGS      179 

tian  cigarette  from  his  own  elaborately  mono- 
grammed  case;  the  same  one  that  Rushton  had 
seen  him  make  use  of  in  front  of  the  hotel,  after 
discarding  the  one  that  he  had  previously  rolled. 

At  the  opposite  side  of  the  avenue,  unseen  by 
either  Clancy  or  Keese,  Rushton  was  pacing  slowly 
along  after  them.  He  was  on  the  job. 

"More  odd,  still,  that  your  sister,  at  her  first 
glance  at  his  picture  should  have  fancied  that  she 
saw  in  it  some  sort  of  a  resemblance  to  you,"  Tom 
continued  imperturbably. 

"There  is  no  accounting  for  Betty's  fancies, 
Clancy,"  Keese  replied  with  a  light  laugh.  "They 
are  as  sudden  and  as  changeable  as  shadows — 
and  just  about  as  substantial;  and,  in  that  respect  it 
does  not  much  matter  what  form  they  may  happen 
to  take." 

Keese  closed  the  statement  with  a  little  chuckle. 

"I  suppose,"  Tom  said,  "that  you  mean  that  re- 
mark as  a  sort  of  continuance  of  your  metaphor  of 
the  hunting  field." 

Keese  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  mean  it  as  a  kindness,  at  least,  Clancy,"  he 
said.  "Betty  wins  hearts  in  just  the  same  way  that 
she  picks  wild  flowers  in  the  woods  and  fields.  She 
holds  them  for  a  moment  in  her  hand,  admires  them 
— and  chucks  them  aside  for  fresher  ones." 

"Is  it  a — er — family  trait,  Mr.  Keese?" 

"Possibly.  I  had  not  thought  of  that.  It  is, 
however,  Betty's  way.  So — be  on  your  guard,  my 
friend." 

"Thank  you,"  Tom  replied  solemnly.    "I  suppose 


180      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

I  ought  to  thank  you,  and  I  do.  However,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  if  I  am  to  accept  as  fact  what  you 
have  said  in  regard  to  your  sister,  and  if  I  am 
to  consider  you  as  representing  the  'family/  fickle 
fancy  is  not  a  trait;  or,  if  it  is,  the  characteristic 
was  overlooked  when  you  were  fashioned." 

"Meaning — just  what,  Mr.  Clancy?" 

"Nothing;  that  is,  nothing  more  than  this:  If  I 
read  you  correctly — and  for  some  unexplained  rea- 
son I  think  I  do — you  are  one  who  is  very  far 
indeed  from  being  fickle.  In  fact,  it  would  not 
surprise  me  at  all  if  you  were  to  expand  at  this 
moment  into  a  burst  of  confidence  and  admit  to  me 
that  you  are  still  madly  in  love  with  your  first 
love." 

"Does  your  gift  of  penetration  go  so  far  as  to 
suggest  who  the  'first'  love  may  have  been,  Mr. 
Clancy?" 

"Quite  so.  A  blind  man  could  see  that,  you 
know." 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence  which  it  was 
evident  that  Keese  did  not  intend  to  break  of  his 
own  accord,  and  then  Tom  added,  speaking  in  an 
apparently  careless  tone : 

"You  see  we  are  even  now.  You  were  kind 
enough  to  warn  me,  a  moment  ago,  lest  I  might 
cast  my  bread  upon  waters  that  would  not  give  it 
back.  And  so,  gentle  sir — my  friend,  as  you  ad- 
dressed me — I  feel  it  my  duty  to  return  the  com- 
pliment." 

Keese  came  to  a  full  stop.  Tom  had  won  his 
point.  He  had  succeeded  in  wounding  the  heel  of 


AN  EXCHANGE  OF   WARNINGS      181 

Achilles.  He  had  touched  a  spot  which  aroused  the 
fiery  Southern  temper  of  Benton  Keese. 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Keese 
demanded  hotly.  Then,  before  Tom  could  reply, 
or  had  made  an  effort  to  do  so,  he  laughed  aloud, 
resumed  his  way  down  the  avenue,  and  added, 
with  a  well-assumed  appearance  of  forced  cor- 
diality : 

"Moths  like  ourselves,  Clancy,  delight  to  singe 
their  wings,  provided  only  that  the  fire  is  hot 
enough  to  suit  us.  Dear  me !  Here  we  are  at  Fif- 
ty-ninth Street,  and  I  must  leave  you.  Many 
thanks  for  the  implied  warning,  old  chap;  only, 
really  you  know,  it  wasn't  necessary.  And  I  am 
afraid — very  much  afraid  indeed! — that  in  your 
case,  it  was,  and  is,  quite  important  that  you  should 
heed  mine." 


CHAPTER   XXIII 
BINGHAM  HARVARD'S  QUIET  WAY 

"Bingham,"  Van  Cleve  asked,  soon  after  Lady 
Kate  and  Betty  had  gone  from  the  room  for  an 
exchange  of  confidences,  following  upon  the  de- 
parture of  Tom  Clancy  and  Benton  Keese,  "are 
you  particularly  acquainted  with  the  characteristics, 
traits  and  mannerisms  of  Southerners,  generally?" 

He  had  lighted  a  huge,  black  cigar  and  was  lean- 
ing back  comfortably  in  the  chair,  and  his  strong, 
handsome  face,  eminently  patrician  in  every  line  of 
it,  expressed  nothing  more  than  mild  curiosity. 
Harvard  did  not  smoke. 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  help  you  as  I  have 
only  known  one  intimately,"  the  young  banker 
replied,  smilingly,  "and  that  one  is  Katherine. 
Why  do  you  ask?" 

"I  have  never  known  any  of  them  intimately," 
Van  Cleve  answered.  "Unless  it  was  Chilton;  and 
intimacy  would  hardly  be  the  word  to  apply  to  my 
association  with  him.  But  if  you  had  replied  to  my 
question  in  the  affirmative,  it  would  have  been  fol- 
lowed by  another  one  that  had  occurred  to  me." 

"What  is  it?" 

"This:  Does  one  Southerner  whom  you  meet 
casually,  inevitably  remind  you,  in  some  inexplica- 
ble manner,  of  others  whom  you  may  have 
known  ?" 

182 


BINGHAM  HARVARD'S  QUIET  WAY    183 

Harvard  studied  upon  the  question  a  moment  be- 
fore he  replied.  Then  he  said: 

"In  the  abstract,  yes;  I  think  so.  I  know  per- 
fectly well  to  what  you  allude,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  and 
I  want  to  be  entirely  fair  in  my  reply.  There  is 
something  about  Benton  Keese  that  touches  a  fa- 
miliar note  of  memory,  and  the  familiar  note  does, 
very  remotely,  suggest  Holbrook  Chilton.  That  is 
what  you  meant,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"I  was  impressed  by  something  of  the  sort  the 
first  time  I  saw  him,  although  I  did  not  then  con- 
nect it  with  Chilton.  In  fact,  I  had  not  done  so 
until  this  evening;  and  I  doubt  if  it  would  have 
occurred  to  me  even  to-night  had  it  not  been  for  a 
remark  his  sister  made  to  all  of  us  about  the  photo- 
graph." 

"What  was  that?" 

"She  thought,  from  a  distance — at  her  first 
glance,  and  before  she  had  really  seen  the  picture 
— that  it  was  her  brother." 

"Then  it  was  something  in  the  pose,  probably, 
that  suggested  the  thought?" 

"Undoubtedly." 

"Of  course,"  Van  Cleve  announced  quietly,  "it 
is  utterly  preposterous  for  us  to  connect  the  two 
men  in  more  than  a  contemplative  way.  But — I 
think  that  the  effect  that  Mr.  Keese  had  upon  me 
at  the  moment  I  was  introduced  to  him  was  very 
much  the  same  as  the  impression  made  upon  Miss 
Betty  when  she  first  caught  sight  of  the  picture." 

"I  don't  think  that  I  exactly  understand  what 


184      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

you  mean,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  Harvard  said,  wrin- 
kling his  brows. 

"Shall  I  be  entirely  plain?" 

"Please." 

"The  first  swift  glance  that  I  had  of  Mr.  Keese 
when  we  were  introduced  brought  Chilton  as  for- 
cibly to  my  mind  as  if  he  had  been  dropped  down 
into  the  room  in  front  of  me;  and  Holbrook  Chil- 
ton was  as  far  from  my  thoughts  at  the  moment  as 
China  or  Mexico,  or  the  private  office  at  your  bank. 
But,  as  in  the  case  of  Mrss  Betty,  the  notion  was 
instantly  dispelled.  It  disappeared,  utterly;  and 
afterward,  although  I  studied  the  man  covertly  and 
closely,  I  could  discover  nothing  about  him  to  ac- 
count for  that  first  impulsive  idea." 

"You  just  now  suggested  that  it  was  something 
about  the  pose  of  the  picture  which  brought  the 
idea  into  Betty's  mind.  Was  it  the  pose  that  sug- 
gested it  to  you,  do  you  think?" 

"No." 

"What  should  you  say  it  was?" 

"I  don't  know — unless  it  was  something  in  his 
eyes.  But,  I  don't  see  why  we  are  discussing  this 
question  at  all.  Keese  is  not  Chilton.  I  am  as  posi- 
tive about  that  as  I  am  that  he  did,  somehow,  bring 
the  fellow  to  mind.  Besides "  He  hesitated. 

"Well,  Mr.  Van  Cleve?" 

"The  whole  suggestion  is  utterly  preposterous, 
as  I  said  before.  Benton  Keese  is  the  brother  of 
Mrs.  Harvard's  best  friend  and  life-long  associate. 
Indeed,  as  I  understand  it,  he  was  himself  a  life- 
long associate  of  hers." 


BINGHAM  HARVARD'S  QUIET  WAY    185 

"The  fact  remains,"  Harvard  said  quietly,  "that 
Benton  Keese  left  his  home  in  Kentucky  within  a 
very  short  time  after  -Katherine  came  from  there 
to  New  York — and  that  was,  approximately,  about 
the  time  of  Chilton's  appearance  in  Mexico." 

Van  Cleve  nodded;  and  he  said  with  a  smile: 

"That,  of  course,  is  a  mere  coincidence;  and 
also  it  is  partly  accounted  for  by  the  incident  of 
the  meeting  between  Keese  and  Chilton  in  the  Pull- 
man car  of  the  Southern  Pacific  train.  Then,  again 
— and  this  had  escaped  both  of  us — if  there  had 
been  any  real  connection  between  the  two  men 
Keese  would  scarcely  have  permitted  himself  to 
recognize,  and  claim  acquaintance  with,  the  original 
of  the  picture.  But,  my  dear  Harvard,  it  is  utter 
folly  for  us  even  to  discuss  such  a  thing.  Besides, 
it  is  an  affront  to  your  guest;  and  to  his  beautiful 
sister  who  is  your  wife's  best  friend  as  well  as 
guest — and  to  you,  also." 

"I  could  not  help  noticing  that  you  were  study- 
ing the  man,"  Harvard  said,  ignoring  the  last  re- 
mark of  Van  Cleve's. 

"I  hope  that  he  did  not  notice  it.  I  was  not 
aware  that  I  made  the  fact  so  plain." 

"I  think,"  Harvard  replied  slowly,  "that  Benton 
Keese  is  a  man  who  notices  most  things  that  occur 
in  his  presence.  But  if  he  did  notice  it  the  effect 
upon  him  could  have  been  only  one  of  two  kinds." 

"How  do  you  mean,  Harvard  ?" 

"He  should  have  been  either  flattered — or  fright- 
ened." 

"Humph!" 


186      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

'  "Flattered  by  your  regard,  if  he  is  really  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  Benton  Keese.  And  dismayed, 
if  not  actually  frightened  by  your  close  attention 
to  him,  in  case  he  has  been  masquerading  as  one 
Holbrook  Chilton  of  our  mutual  acquaintance." 

"Good  Lord,  Bingham!  You  don't  for  a  mo- 
ment think  that  possible,  do  you?"  Van  Cleve  fairly 
gasped  the  question. 

"No."  Harvard  replied  with  deliberation;  and 
he  added,  carefully  selecting  his  words :  "No.  I 
do  not  think  that.  And  yet,  barring  your  non-rec- 
ognition of  him — and  mine  also — the  situation  is 
just  possible." 

Van  Cleve  was  about  to  reply,  but  Harvard  went 
on  quickly: 

"Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Van  Cleve.  I  want  to 
make  myself  entirely  plain,  if  that  is  possible.  You 
know  next  to  nothing  concerning  an  experience 
I  passed  through  while  I  was  paying-teller  at  the 
bank;  and  I  will  not  burden  you  with  a  recital  of 
it.*  You  do  know  enough  about  it  to  understand 
what  I  shall  say." 

"Possibly." 

"It  was  a  bitter  experience,  and  the  fact  that  in 
its  utmost  extremity  I  discovered  Katherine  and 
won  her  love  is  its  only  atonement.  But  it  taught 
me  that  things  are  not  always  what  they  seem  to 
be;  that  circumstances  of  past  associations  cannot 
always  be  relied  upon ;  that  truth  is  frequently  much 
harder  to  establish  than  falsity." 

"I  think  I  understand  you.  It  is  your  idea  to 
give  this  man  the  benefit  of  the  doubt — both  ways. 
*See  "Alias  the  Night  Wind." 


BINGHAM  HARVARD'S  QUIET  WAY    187 

That  remark  is  a  free  translation  of  a  Spanish 
proverb  which  I  have  sometimes  thought  is  very 
apt.  All  the  same,  it  is  quite  plain  to  me  that  you 
do  not  like  Mr.  Benton  Keese." 

"No.  My  dislike  for  him  is  instinctive  rather 
than  actual.  In  a  measure,  too,  it  is  the  conse- 
quence of  a  very  human  prejudice.  Keese  was  for- 
merly a  suitor  for  Katherine's  hand  in  marriage. 
He  had  the  active  support  of  Katherine's  parents 
— more,  I  think,  because  of  old  family  relations  and 
associations  than  anything  else.  I  am  telling  this 
to  you,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  precisely  as  I  would  tell  it 
to  Mr.  Chester." 

"I  understand,  Bingham." 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  the  insistence  of  his  suit. 
It  was  because  of  his  perseverance  in  spite  of  her 
negatives,  and  of  the  pressure  that  he  induced 
Katherine's  father  and  mother  to  put  upon  her  that 
she  fled  from  them  and  came  to  New  York." 

Van  Cleve  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"Neither  is  there  any  doubt  that  Keese  was 
deeply — desperately  is  possibly  a  better  word  to 
express  it — in  love  with  Katherine.  Nor  can  there 
be  any  doubt  to  the  mind  of  one  who  is  ordinarily 
observant  that  he  is  so  now." 

"Surely  you  are  not " 

Harvard  interrupted  with  quiet  laughter. 

"Jealous?  Hardly  that,  sir.  But  the  elemental, 
primitive  man  inside  of  me  resents  the  fact.  You 
understand  that,  don't  you?" 

"Yes." 

"I  can  see,  too,  that  Katherine  recognizes  it — 


188      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

and  resents  it  much  more  bitterly  than  I  do.  To 
me  it  is  a  condition  with  which,  in  an  abstract  way, 
I  can  sympathize ;  but  to  her  it  amounts  to  very  lit- 
tle less  than  a  positive  affront.  I  am  sure,  because 
I  have  observed  closely,  that  were  it  not  for  the 
presence  of  Betty  in  our  home  Katherine  would  find 
an  excuse  for  not  receiving  him.  And — I  hope  you 
will  not  misunderstand  me  now — I  am  inclined  to 
believe  that  Keese  brought  his  sister  here  from  the 
South  purposely  to  avoid  that  very  exigency." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  Van  Cleve  remarked  uneasily, 
"that  we  are  drifting  away  from  the  original  topic, 
Bingham." 

"No.  On  the  contrary  I  am  getting  back  to  it. 
I  told  you  a  little  bit  ago  that  from  the  first  meet- 
ing with  Keese  he  sounded  a  note  of  familiarity 
in  my  consciousness." 

"Yes." 

"I  have  thought  upon  it,  and  studied  it  con- 
stantly, since  then,  but  not  once  with  the  most  re- 
mote suggestion  of  associating  him  with  Holbrook 
Chilton — until  to-night." 

"But,  now?" 

"Now,  beginning  with  that  impulsive  exclama- 
tion from  Betty,  and  followed  by  a  much  more 
careful  observation  of  the  man  himself,  the  asso- 
ciation— in  my  mind  at  least — is  unmistakable ;  and 
yet,  like  yourself,  I  am  entirely  unable  to  put  my 
mental  finger  upon  a  single  characteristic,  gesture, 
or  feature,  tone  of  the  voice,  glance  of  the  eye  or 
mannerism,  that  will  afford  even  the  vaguest  sup- 
port to  the  idea.  And  so — pardon  me  yet  another 


BINGHAM  HARVARD'S  QUIET  WAY    189 

moment — a  few  questions  which  possibly  you  can 
answer,  occur  to  me." 

"We  are  drifting  very  far  afield,  Bingham." 
"I  know  that — and  we  will  either  drift  farther 
still,  or  we  will  be  brought  back  to  the  home  base 
for  a  new  start." 

"Well,  what  are  the  questions  you  would  ask?" 
"You  were  more  or  less  closely  associated  with 
the  man  Chilton  for  some  time.  You  are  observant. 
Very  little  escapes  you.  There  are  certain  features 
about  every  human  being  which  cannot  be  thor- 
oughly disguised — or  at  least  that  is  the  claim  of 
criminologists.  They  are,  roughly,  the  expression, 
shape,  color  and  habit  of  using  the  eyes ;  the  shape 
of  the  ears,  particularly  at  the  tops,  and  the  lobes, 
and  as  to  position  in  relation  to  the  other  features ; 
the  shape  and  position  of  the  nose,,  not  in  profile, 
but  in  full  front  view,  and  in  the  measurements 
from  the  tip  of  it  to  the  lobes  of  each  ear;  the  lines 
of  the  mouth  and  the  flitting  expressions  of  those 
lines — not  the  staid  ones.  Not  the  outer  lines  of 
the  lips,  wrhich  might  be  concealed  temporarily  by 
mustache  and  beard,  but  of  the  mouth  itself,  which 
is  never  entirely  concealed. 

"A  moment  ago  you  referred  to  the  eyes  of  Ben- 
ton  Keese,  and  so  I  ask  you — what  of  them,  or  of 
any  feature  I  have  named,  suggests  Chilton?" 

"Upon  my  word,  Harvard,  save  for  that  vague 
impression  of  suggestion  which  still  remains,  there 
is  not  one  expression,  one  feature,  or  one  manner- 
ism to  support  the  theory,"  Van  Cleve  replied  with 
studied  conviction. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

A  LEOPARD — AND  HIS  SPOTS 

Anderson  Van  Cleve  entered  the  hotel  where  he 
was  staying  temporarily  shortly  after  eleven. 
When  he  called  for  his  key  at  the  desk  an  envelope 
was  also  handed  to  him.  It  contained  the  card  of 
Thomas  Clancy. 

On  the  back  of  it  Tom  had  penciled  the  follow- 
ing: 

DEAR  MR.  VAN  CLEVE: 

No  matter  at  what  hour  you  find  this  card,  will 
you  please  come  to  my  house  to  see  me  before  you 
retire?  T.  C. 

"How  long  a  time  is  it  since  the  gentleman  was 
here?"  he  asked  of  the  clerk  who  gave  him  the  mes- 
sage; and  then  remembering  that  a  time  stamp 
would  be  on  the  back  of  the  envelope,  he  turned  it 
over.  The  clerk  replied: 

"The  envelope  was  left  at  the  desk  by  a  mes- 
senger about  an  hour  ago,  sir." 

Van  Cleve  thrust  the  card  and  envelope  into  a 
pocket  and  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment.  He  did 
not  perceive  that  a  young  man  of  Jewish  appear- 
ance who  had  entered  the  hotel  immediately  in  his 
wake,  was  regarding  him  furtively.  The  young 

190 


A   LEOPARD— AND   HIS   SPOTS       191 

man  went  out  again  when  he  did  so  and  signaled  to 
a  second  taxi  after  Van  Cleve  had  summoned  one. 

Afterward  the  second  taxi  followed  the  first  one 
until  it  had  drawn  up  before  Tom  Clancy's  home, 
where  the  chauffeur  of  it  composed  himself  in  the 
attitude  of  awaiting  the  return  of  his  "fare." 
Clancy  admitted  his  caller  himself  and  led  him 
into  the  library  at  the  rear,  where  he  put  forward 
a  box  of  cigars  and  other  refreshments  while  he  ex- 
plained the  reason  for  the  summons. 

"I  never  would  have  made  a  successful  diplomat, 
Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  he  said,  "so  I  will  go  straight  to 
the  point.  I  asked  you  to  come  here  to-night  as 
soon  as  you  returned  to  your  hotel  because  I  be- 
lieved it  necessary  that  we  should  discuss  a  certain 
person  of  our  acquaintance." 

"Keese?  Or,  Chilton?"  Tom's  caller  inquired 
with  a  half  smile. 

"Both.  Or,  to  be  more  explicit  and  direct  in  my 
reply,  and  in  order  to  explain  in  a  single  word  what 
I  mean — yes." 

"The  one  word,  Mr.  Clancy,  implies  that  you  be- 
lieve Keese  and  Chilton  to  be  identical;"  and  Van 
Cleve  gave  voice  to  a  meaningless  remark  which 
is  usually  spelled  "Humph!"  only  the  orthography 
never  properly  expresses  it. 
I  do,"  Tom  replied  quietly. 

"Why?" 

"I'm  damned  if  I  can  tell  you  why — and  that's 
flat.  But  I  do,  just  the  same.  And  the  conviction, 
for  it  amounts  to  that,  puts  me  into  the  very  deuce 
of  a  pickle  all  around." 


192      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"Cannot  you  give  me  some  sort  of  a  reason  for 
your  conviction?" 

"No  more  than  you  can  give  me  one  for  yours ; 
and  I  am  quite  certain  that  your  belief  is  approxi- 
mately the  same  as  mine,  sir." 

"No,  Clancy,  it  is  not.  But  I  will  say  this :  If 
I  were  situated  as  you  are,  in  relation  to  this  whole 
affair,  I  have  not  a  doubt  that  I  would  think  exactly 
as  you  do." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"This:  You  have  seen  and  talked  with  Chilton 
only  two  or  three  times.  I  have  seen  him  and 
talked  with  him,  and  hobnobbed  with  him  hundreds 
of  times.  I  have  been  in  his  company  for  days  at 
a  time.  We  have  traveled  together  across  leagues 
of  territory  in  the  saddle,  side  by  side.  I  have 
known  him  when  serious  danger  threatened,  and 
have  always  found  him  to  be  cool,  resourceful,  self- 
reliant,  and  brave,  and  have  been  enabled  to  observe 
him  very  closely  in  such  extremities.  I  have  seen 
him  and  observed  him  at  Mexican  fiestas,  when 
there  was  dancing  and  music  and  laughter  all 
around  us.  I  have  seen  him  in  my  office,  engaged 
in  business  affairs,  and  in  his  own  rooms  when  he 
was  host  and  I  was  guest.  And  always  I  have 
studied  him  more  closely  than  I  would  have  done 
with  another  man — because — there  was  always  an 
indefinable  something  about  the  man  that  impressed 
me  with  a  vague  uneasiness. 

"And  now — and  this  is  the  point — I  cannot  dis- 
cover one  single  characteristic,  mannerism,  gesture, 
or  feature  of  Benton  Keese's  which  was  also  Chil- 


A    LEOPARD— AXD    HIS   SPOTS       193 

ton's.  And  I  do  not  believe  that  it  is  within  the 
scope  and  power  of  any  man  to  disguise  himself  so 
thoroughly." 

"Once  upon  a  time  I  learned  to  speak  Spanish 
fluently,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,"  Tom  said. 

"Yes?     What  has  that  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"I  remember  a  Spanish  proverb  that  I  learned. 
It  has  a  lot  of  meaning,  too;  and  it  seems  to  apply 
just  here." 

"What  was  it?" 

"Translated  to  English,  and  rather  liberally,  it 
means:  'When  you  study  the  motives  of  a  friend 
or  an  enemy,  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  both 
ways.' " 

Van  Cleve  smiled  broadly. 

"I  quoted  the  same  proverb  to  Bingham  Harvard 
this  evening,"  he  said. 

"Were  you  discussing  Keese?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  were  of  the  opinion  that  Keese  might 
beChilton?  AndBinghad  the  same  idea,  did  he?" 

"I  won't  go  so  far  as  to  say  that.  But  the  sug- 
gestion was  made  by  one  of  us — that  it  is  within 
possibility  that  it  might  be  so." 

"Which  one  made  it?" 

"Harvard,  I  think.  But  you  have  not  told  me 
why  you  quoted  that  old  proverb." 

"I  mentioned  it  because,  in  studying  this  ques- 
tion, I  have  attempted  to  follow  out  the  rule  of 
that  proverb.  I  have  undertaken  to  give  the  man 
the  benefit  of  the  doubt — both  ways." 

"I  am  still  in  the  dark,  Mr.  Clancy." 


il94      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"Do  you  play  chess,  Mr.  Van  Cleve?  Yes? 
Then  you  know  how  a  good  chess  player  studies 
his  game  a  great  many  moves  ahead;  how  he  ar- 
ranges several  plans,  and  seeks  to  anticipate  what 
the  moves  of  his  opponent  would  be,  for  each 
plan ;  and  how  he  finally  selects  what  he  believes  to 
be  the  best  plan,  and  follows  it  out  tenaciously — 
unless  an  entirely  unexpected  move  by  his  opponent 
forces  him  to  change  it?" 

"It  seems  to  me  that  we  are  getting  farther  and 
farther  away  from  the  significance  of  the  Spanish 
proverb." 

4<No.    We  are  getting  closer  to  it." 

"How  so?" 

"If  I  give  Chilton  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  both 
ways — studying  him  from  the  time  that  he  entered 
your  employ,  and  assuming  that  he  is  now  Benton 
Keese;  but  observing  him  for  the  time  being  only 
as  Chilton — I  am  brought  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  man  had  observed  you  and  your  methods  and 
your  business  affairs  rather  closely,  before  he  ap- 
plied to  you  for  employment." 

"Well?" 

"The  various  ramifications  of  your  ventures  in 
Mexico  was  the  chess  board.  Your  mines,  your 
contracts,  your  investments,  your  fortune,  or  a 
great  part  of  it,  and  the  work  you  were  doing, 
were  the  pawns  in  the  game.  You  were  the  king 
he  was  to  checkmate,  and  you  lost  your  queen  irre- 
trievably when  you  made  him  your  general  man- 
ager and  put  him  in  charge  of  your  affairs.  He 
took  away  your  rooks,  your  bishops  and  your 


A   LEOPARD— AND   HIS   SPOTS       195 

knights  when  your  attention  was  diverted  by  the 
unsettled  conditions  by  which  you  were  surrounded. 
He  would  have  driven  you  into  a  corner  and  check- 
mated you  if  you  had  not  made  that  sudden  and  to- 
tally unexpected  move  of  throwing  everything, 
down  there,  to  the  dogs  and  returning  to  New 
York.  I  verily  believe,  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  that  you  would  be  dead  by  now,  and 
that  Harvard  and  I  would  be  entertaining  Chilton 
here  in  your  name." 

Van  Cleve  nodded  as  if  he  thought  so,  too. 

"But,"  Tom  continued,  "you  did  make  that  unex- 
pected move,  and  at  exactly  the  right  time.  Even 
so,  he  has  driven  you  into  a  corner  where  you  can 
only  move  to  and  fro  on  a  couple  of  squares  while 
you  watch  and  wait  for  him,  through  his  overcon- 
fidence,  to  make  a  false  move." 

"I  entirely  understand  the  simile  you  draw, 
Clancy.  And,  so  far  as  the  man  Chilton  is  con- 
cerned, I  am  ready  to  accept  it.  In  fact,  I  have 
done  so  already. 

"But  you  have  said  not  a  thing,  as  yet,  to  con- 
vince me  that  Chilton  is  Keese,  or  that  a  man  can 
change  his  spots  (I  mean  his  personality,  of  course) 
as  effectively  and  completely  as  Keese  has  done, 
if  he  was  Chilton." 

"You  forget  entirely  the  one  important  thing, 
Mr.  Van  Cleve." 

"Do  I?    What  is  it?" 

"Benton  Keese  is  not  disguised.  Benton  Keese. 
has  not  changed  a  spot." 

"Eh?    I  do  not " 


196      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"Holbrook  Chilton  was  in  disguise,  from  the  very 
first  time  you  ever  saw  him,  until  the  very  last  time." 

"You  mean  by  that — just  what,  Mr.  Clancy?" 

"I  mean  that  every  move  that  Chilton  made  in 
the  game  he  was  playing  with  you  for  an  opponent 
had  been  previously  thought  out.  That  every  ges- 
ture he  employed,  every  mannerism  he  used,  every 
figure  of  speech  he  adopted,  every  peculiarity  he 
seemed  to  possess,  was  assumed  for  your  benefit. 
I  mean  that  he  was  always  fully  informed  of  your 
coming  before  you  arrived,  and  was  prepared  for 
it;  that  he  was  surrounded  by  men  who  would  not 
notice  any  change  in  his  attitude  or  demeanor  be- 
tween the  occasions  when  you  were  present  and 
when  you  were  not — or,  if  they  did  so,  would  at- 
tribute such  a  change  to  the  presence  of  the  'boss/ 
I  mean  that  in  all  the  times  when  you  were  to- 
gether in  Mexico  Chilton  was  playing — and  doing 
it  thoroughly — a  part  that  he  had  carefully  studied 
in  each  and  every  detail,  and  that  the  Holbrook 
Chilton  you  knew  was  no  more  the  real  man  than 
Shylock  was  when  Henry  Irving  played  that 
character.  And,  lastly,  I  mean  this:  that  Benton 
Keese  is  merely  his  natural  self;  that  in  him  you  see 
only  the  great  actor  in  private  life ;  and,  as  in  the 
case  of  all  great  actors,  he  does  not  at  all  resemble 
any  one  of  the  characters  he  assumes  in  his  play- 
acting." 

"That  would  presuppose  that  Holbrook  Chilton 
came  into  my  employ  with  the  deliberate  intention 
of  robbing  me  finally." 

"Exactly.  And  of  murdering  you,  too,  doubt- 
less, and  so  obtaining  all  you  possessed.  But  you 


A    LEOPARD— AND   HIS  SPOTS       197 

made  an  unexpected  move  toward  the  end  of  the 
game,  and  so,  let  us  say,  saved  a  fairly  good  chunk 
of  your  bacon." 

"But,  Clancy,  it  would  also  presuppose  that  the 
man  knew  a  great  deal  about  my  personal  affairs. 
That  I  am  practically  alone  in  the  world;  that  if  I 
should  disappear,  and  he  was  to  assume  my  name 
and  place — and  fortune — there  would  be  practically 
nobody  to  question  his  claim;  nobody  but  Sterling 
Chester." 

"Yes ;  and  in  reply  to  that  we  have  the  fact  that 
Chilton  somehow  knew  that  Chester  was  traveling 
in  Egypt,  when  you  did  not  know  it." 

"The  whole  thing  amazes  me,  Mr.  Clancy.  I  con- 
fess it.  And  your  arguments  do  impress  me.  I 
must  admit  that,  too.  But,  if  your  assumption  is 
correct,  how  are  we  to  establish  the  truth  of  it?" 

"That  remains  to  be  seen.  Let  me  ask  you  this : 
Have  you  noticed  that  you  have  been  followed  and 
spied  upon  recently?" 

"No." 

"I  have.  So  had  Rushton.  So  will  you,  if  you 
watch  out.  I'll  bet  you  a  hat  that  you  were  fol- 
lowed to  this  house  to-night,  and  will  be  followed 
back  to  your  hotel  when  you  go  out.  What  for, 
and  by  whom,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  you  wish  to 
ask?  For  the  ultimate  security  of  Benton  Keese, 
and  by  operatives  from  the  Roland  Detective 
Agency  (so  Rushton  informed  me),  which  I  sus- 
pect is  employed  by  Keese.  And  the  'all  the  rest 
of  it'  is  easy  enough  to  guess.  Mr.  Benton  Keese, 
alias  Holbrook  Chilton,  wishes  to  anticipate  any 
and  all  moves  that  may  be  made  against  him." 


CHAPTER    XXV 

THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  BENTON  KEESE 

As  for  Benton  Keese,  our  good  friend  Rodney 
Rushton  followed  after  him.  When  that  person 
parted  with  Clancy  at  Fifth  Avenue  and  Fifty- 
ninth  Street  he  went  directly  to  his  hotel,  which, 
as  it  happened,  was  the  same  at  which  Van  Cleve 
was  staying,  the  Mammoth;  and  he  went  at  once 
to  his  rooms,  where  he  waited  with  a  considerable 
show  of  impatience  the  anticipated  arrival  of  a  cer- 
tain Mr.  Dudley  Roland,  who,  nevertheless,  did  not 
make  his  appearance  until  after  one  o'clock.  But 
when  he  did  appear,  Rushton,  who  was  waiting  and 
watching,  saw  him  and  knew  well  his  business  and 
where  he  was  going. 

Keese  motioned  the  man  to  a  chair  and  glanced 
rapidly  and  impatiently  through  the  written  reports 
contained  on  several  sheets  of  paper  which  Roland 
gave  to  him.  But  he  crushed  them  in  his  hands 
and  tossed  them  into  an  open  grate,  where  he 
touched  a  match  to  them  before  he  had  half  scanned 
their  contents. 

"I  want  no  written  reports  of  what  you  do  for 
me,"  he  said  sharply.  "You  might  be  hit  by  an 
automobile  or  drop  dead  when  you  are  bringing 
them  to  me.  And  I  don't  care  a  damn  what  Oper- 

198 


OTHER  SIDE  OF  BENTON  KEESE     199 

atives  No.  i,  or  2,  or  anybody  else  does.  I  want 
results. 

"So,  now,  suppose  you  tell  me  as  concisely  as 
possible  just  what  those  reports  contained.  I  did 
not  read  them  all." 

"Van  Cleve,  Clancy,  Redhead  and  two  of  his  op- 
eratives, Mrs.  Harvard,  and  ex-Lieutenant  Rushton 
were  all  at  Harvard's  bank  late  this  afternoon,  in 
private  conference  in  the  directors'  room.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  the  subject  of  the  confer- 
ence." 

"The  subject  does  not  matter.     Go  on." 

"Rushton  and  Van  Cleve  left  the  bank  together. 
They  came  to  this  hotel  and  spent  more  than  an 
hour  together  in  Van  Cleve's  rooms.  Rushton  left 
here  shortly  after  five  o'clock.  He  went  to  his  own 
home,  remained  inside  the  house  only  a  few  min- 
utes, came  out  with  a"  small  grip  in  his  hand,  went 
to  the  Pennsylvania  station,  bought  a  ticket  for 
St.  Louis  and  went  away.  My  operative  left  on  the 
same  train." 

Keese  lifted  one  hand  to  enjoin  silence,  and  spent 
a  moment  in  deep  thought.  Then : 

"Go  on,"  he  said. 

"Clancy  came  out  of  the  bank  with  Mrs.  Har- 
vard, dismissed  his  own  car  and  rode  home  with  her 
— but  you  know  that,  because  you  reached  there  at 
the  same  time  they  did  with  a  lady." 

"I  thought  I  told  you  that  your  operatives  were 
not  to  know  me  at  all,"  Keese  said  sharply. 

"They  do  not,  sir.  I  happened  to  be  on  that  part 
of  the  job  myself." 


200      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Well?" 

"Harvard  remained  at  the  bank  until  nearly  six. 
Then  he  went  home.  Van  Cleve  dined  here  at  the 
hotel,  smoked,  and  read  the  paper  at  the  table  after- 
ward, and  then  walked  all  the  way  to  Harvard's 
house.  You  came  out  of  the  house  with 
Clancy " 

"Never  mind  what  /  did.  I  am  reasonably  well 
informed  as  to  that." 

"When  you  parted  with  Clancy  at  Fifty-ninth 
Street  he  went  home.  Half  an  hour  later  a  uni- 
formed messenger  boy  appeared  at  the  house  and 
came  away  a  minute  or  so  afterward  with  a  letter 
in  his  hand.  He  brought  it  to  this  hotel.  My  op- 
erative used  a  nearby  telephone  a  few  minutes 
later  and  inquired  of  the  desk-clerk  if  a  messenger 
had  lately  left  a  letter  for  Mr.  Van  Cleve  and  if 
Mr.  Van  Cleve  had  yet  received  it.  The  message 
from  Clancy  was  for  him  of  course. 

"Van  Cleve  arrived  at  the  hotel  a  little  after 
eleven.  He  read  the  letter  from  Clancy  and  went 
outside  at  once,  called  a  taxi  and  was  driven  to 
Clancy's  house.  He  stayed  there  an  hour.  He  is 
now  in  his  rooms  on  the  tenth  floor  of  this  hotel." 

"What  about  the  man  you  call  Redhead  and  his 
two  assistants,  who  attended  the  meeting  at  the 
bank?" 

"One  of  the  operatives  trailed  Rushton  and  Van 
Cleve  when  they  left  the  bank  together.  To  make 
it  short,  that  fellow  stuck  to  Rushton  and  finally 
left  New  York  on  the  same  train  with  him.  He 
kept  in  the  background,  and  I  do  not  know  whether 


OTHER  SIDE  OF  BENTON  KEESE    201 

Rushton  is  aware  of  the  man's  nearness  or  not. 
The  presumption  is  that  he  does  know  it,  arid  that 
the  two  are  traveling  together  without  having  the 
appearance  of  doing  so." 

Keese  shook  his  head  with  emphasis. 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,"  he  said.  "But  that 
doesn't  matter.  Where  did  the  remaining  two  go  ?" 

"To  Redhead's  office.  I  had  them  dropped 
there." 

"Will  your  man  who  followed  Rushton  stick  to 
him?" 

"Surest  thing  you  know,  Mr.  Keese." 

"Is  he  a  good  man?  Can  he  do  the  job  without 
being  caught  at  it,  even  by  so  clever  a  fellow  as 
Rushton?" 

"He  is  the  very  best  ever.  If  he  can't  do  it, 
nobody  can.  He  will  hang  to  the  trail  if  Rushton 
leads  him  around  the  world." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  the  other  fellow? 
The  Redhead  operative  who  is  on  the  same  train?" 

"I  know  all  about  him." 

"Who  and  what  is  he?" 

"He  used  to  be  a  headquarters  detective.  He 
was  retired  a  few  years  ago  and  went  with  Red- 
head. His  name  is  Banta.  I'll  say  this  for  him: 
they  don't  make  any  better  detectives  for  the  reg- 
ular force  than  he  was.  He  used  to  be  a  side  part- 
ner with  Rushton  down  there,  and  that  is  what 
makes  me  think  that  the  two  are  really  together. 
Rushton  may  not  have  known  that  Redhead  was 
sending  Banta  away  with  him  when  he  started,  but 
you  can  bet  your  last  dollar  that  he  knows  it  by 


202      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

this  time.  I'll  receive  a  wire  from  Lazarus  as  soon 
as  they  get  to  St.  Louis." 

"I  think  that  will  do  for  to-night,"  Keese  said. 
"Make  an  extra  effort  to  know  everything  about 
Clancy  and  Van  Cleve  from  now  on.  Never  mind 
Harvard  for  the  present.  He  is  not  likely  to  need 
watching  on  my  account  until  Rushton  gets  back. 
To-morrow,  by  noon,  I  want  a  complete  and  thor- 
ough report  from  that  new  maid  of  Mrs.  Har- 
vard's. You  said  that  she  was  one  of  your  people, 
or  that  you  could  own  her.  Was  that  true?" 

"Yes.  I'll  prove  it  to-morrow  noon,"  Roland  re- 
plied, and  bowed  himself  out. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 
WHEN  IT  WAS  BETTY'S  MOVE 

"It  is  your  move  to-day,  Betty." 

The  Kentucky  girl  lifted  her  glance  quickly  to 
her  brother's  eyes  and  regarded  him  with  a  steady 
gaze.  But  she  made  no  reply  in  words,  and  Keese 
went  on  in  his  quietest  tone,  which  had  something 
of  the  suggestiveness  in  it  of  the  purring  of  a 
tiger-cat,  and  with  a  faint  smile  showing  about  the 
corners  of  his  attractive  mouth: 

"Don't  forget  about  that  fifty  thousand  dollars 
I  have  promised  you — and  don't  forget  that  you 
have  no  choice  about  earning  it,  either.  You've 
got  to  earn  it,  Betty;  or,  if  you  do  not,  I  promise 
you  that  you  will  wish  you  had." 

"Are  you  threatening  me,  Ben?"  she  asked  her 
brother  quietly,  and  with  a  brief  flash  in  her  eyes, 
to  which  he  gave  no  heed  even  if  he  noticed  it. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  calmly,  as  if  it  were  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  to  suggest  threats  of 
dire  consequences  to  his  own  sister.  "I  am  warn- 
ing you,  if  you  prefer  that  expression." 

She  shrugged  her  shapely  shoulders  and  turned 
her  head  to  look  across  the  field,  all  dotted  as  it  was 
with  riders  in  hunting  costumes,  with  men  and 
women  afoot  and  in  the  saddle,  with  gaily  colored 
groups  gathered  here  and  there,  with  prancing  or 

203 


204      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

plunging  mounts  that  were  all  eagerness  to  be  off 
in  the  chase.  A  throng  of  automobiles,  carriages, 
vehicles  of  all  descriptions,  saddled  cobs  and  spec- 
tators on  foot,  was  drawn  up  beyond  the  barrier 
awaiting  the  signal  of  the  M.  F.  H.  The  day  was 
perfect  and  the  meet  was  always  an  event.  Betty 
and  her  brother  had  drawn  a  little  apart  from  their 
immediate  neighbors — or,  to  be  more  explicit,  he 
had  signaled  her  to  ride  aside  with  him.  Katherine 
Harvard  was  surrounded  by  a  group  of  friends,  of 
whom  Tom  Clancy  was  one,  close  at  hand.  Hounds 
were  baying,  horses  were  neighing,  men  were  call- 
ing greetings  or  comments  across  slight  spaces  to 
other  men.  The  time  for  the  start  was  near. 

Miss  Keese  made  no  reply  to  that  last  remark. 
Her  brother  waited  an  instant  for  her  to  do  so. 
Then  he  said : 

"Walk  your  hunter  a  little  way  beside  me.  I 
want  to  make  a  few  suggestions  to  you,  and  I  do 
not  care  to  be  interrupted.  Come." 

She  obeyed  him.  And  in  another  moment  he 
utterly  amazed  her  by  the  question  he  asked,  which 
was  not  at  all  what  she  had  expected. 

"How  much  in  earnest  are  you  in  this  affair  with 
Tom  Clancy?" 

Betty's  face  flushed  to  a  crimson  instantly.  Her 
eyes  flashed  ominously  as  she  turned  toward  him 
and  replied  with  almost  childlike  petulance: 

"That  is  none  of  your  business,  Ben  Keese." 

"Granted,  and  without  a  murmur,  my  dear  sister 
— unless  you  force  me  to  make  it  my  business,"  he 
replied  with  a  smile  that  was  not  pleasant,  since 


WHEN  IT  WAS  BETTY'S  MOVE       205 

being  his  sister  and  knowing  him  as  she  did,  she 
understood  the  menace  of  it. 

"How  much  of  that  music-talk  that  you  played 
to  him  last  Monday  evening  did  you  mean,  Betty?" 

"That  is  none  of  your  business,   either." 

"Which,  for  you,  is  another  manner  of  saying 
that  you  meant  all  of  it,"  he  said,  and  the  half 
derisive  smile  on  his  face  grew  wider.  "Oh,  I  was 
listening,  and  watching,  too,  sister.  I  heard  it  all 
and  saw  it  all.  A  deaf  man  and  a  blind  man  might 
have  done  the  same,  I  think.  Well,  Clancy  has 
got  plenty  of  coin  and  he  comes  of  a  good  family, 
so  I  haven't  the  slightest  objection  to  your " 

"As  if  it  would  make  any  difference  if  you  had!" 
she  interrupted  him  hotly. 

"Oh,  it  would  make  a  difference;  a  very  great 
one,  my  dear  sister.  I  could  spoil  your  little  ro- 
mance in  a  jiffy,  if  I  wanted  to;  and  I  may  want 
to.  That  all  depends  upon  you.  Do  you  under- 
stand that?" 

She  shuddered  in  spite  of  herself;  not  because 
she  believed  what  he  said,  but  because  all  of  her 
life  she  had  feared  this  brother  of  hers  and  his 
subtle  and  unholy  ways  with  people  who  offended 
him.  He  saw  and  understood  that  shudder,  and 
laughed  quietly. 

"Do  you  understand  that?"  he  repeated. 

"I  know  what  you  intend  to  imply  by  the  words 
you  use,"  she  answered. 

"Then  that  is  sufficient.  You  have  a  good  mount 
under  you,  Betty,  and  there  is  neither  man  nor 
woman  here  to-day  who  is  your  superior  in  the 


306      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

hunting  field.    I  know  that,  and  you  know  it,  too." 

"Well?" 

"I  am  not  going  to  impose  a  difficult  task  upon 
you." 

"What  is  the  task  that  you  would  impose — if  I 
should  consent  to  it?"  she  demanded,  still  with 
some  heat;  and  there  was  nothing  in  her  manner 
to  indicate  that  she  had  any  idea  of  consenting  to 
anything  that  he  might  ask. 

"You  have  only  to  hold  up  a  finger,  Betty,  and 
Clancy  will  nod  his  head.  He  will  sit  up  and  speak, 
lie  down  and  roll  over,  play  dead,  or  eat  out  of  your 
hand  at  your  slightest  command." 

Keese  bent  a  trifle  nearer  to  her  and  added :  "I 
want  you  to  lead  him  a  chase  that  he  won't  soon 
forget  to-day;  and  I  don't  care  where  it  takes  you, 
if  only  it  is  far  enough  away  from  Katherine.  Do 
you  understand  that,  also?" 

Betty  made  no  reply.  Her  brother  pulled  in  his 
horse  and  turned  about  so  that  he  faced  in  the 
direction  from  which  they  had  come.  She  was 
obliged,  perforce,  to  do  the  same.  Keese  nodded 
his  head  toward  the  group  they  had  just  left  and 
they  could  see  that  Katherine  and  Qancy  had 
drawn  a  little  apart  from  the  others  and  appeared 
to  be  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  together. 
Benton  Keese  indulged  in  one  of  his  inscrutable 
smiles. 

"I  know  exactly  what  Kitten  is  saying  to 
Clancy,"  he  told  his  sister.  "I  know  it  as  well  as 
if  I  could  hear  the  words.  She  is  telling  him  that 
she  wants  him  to  keep  as  close  to  her  as  possible 


WHEN  IT  WAS  BETTY'S  MOVE      207 

during  the  hunt;  she  is  asking  him  to  ride  beside 
her,  from  start  to  finish,  if  he  can — even  if  he  is 
compelled  to  desert  you  to  do  so ;  and  she  is  agree- 
ing to  square  him  with  you  later.  And  he  is  prom- 
ising. How  is  that  for  reading  lip  movement  when 
I  am  so  far  away  that  I  cannot  even  see  their  lips  ?" 
he  asked,  and  chuckled. 

Betty  was  still  silent. 

"What  is  the  matter?  Have  you  lost  your 
tongue?"  he  demanded  sharply. 

"No ;  nor  my  ears,  either." 

"That  is  fortunate,  at  least.  Are  you  going  to  do 
as  I  asked?" 

"No." 

"What's  that?" 

"You  heard  me,  I  think." 

"Do  I  understand,  Elizabeth,  that  you  refuse  to 
do  what  I  have  asked?" 

She  nodded  without  speaking. 

"Is  this  mutiny,  my  dear?  Are  you  defying 
me?"  he  asked  with  his  slow  smile. 

"Ben  Keese,  I  am  not  going  to  do  one  single 
thing  that  will  give  you  an  opportunity  to  make 
love  to  Kitty.  Not  one.  I  am  not  going  to  do  a 
thing  that  will  give  you  a  chance  to  be  alone  with 
her  for  one  minute,  if  I  can  help  it — and  I  think 
I  can.  You  can  take  your  old  fifty  thousand  dollars 
and  go  hang  with  it,  for  all  I  care.  I  would  not 
touch  it,  even  if  I  were  starving  and  did  not  have 
a  home  to  go  to.  So,  there!" 

She  brought  her  hunting  crop  down  sharply  upon 
the  flank  of  her  horse  simultaneously  with  that 


208      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

last  exclamation  and  shot  away  from  his  side  be- 
fore he  could  reply  to  her;  and  he  only  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  smiled  while  he  jogged  slowly' 
after  her. 

The  eyes  of  many  women  sought  and  followed 
Benton  Keese  that  day.  He  was  undeniably  hand- 
some, eminently  graceful,  and  he  was  at  his  best 
in  the  saddle — a  circumstance  of  which  he  was  quite 
conscious,  although  he  was  wise  enough  not  to 
show  it.  There  were  few  women  whom  he  did  not 
affect  in  much  the  same  way  that  Lady  Kate  felt, 
and  resented,  propinquity  with  him.  They  were 
inclined  to  seek  his  eyes  and  to  flush  and  withdraw 
their  own  instantly.  He  seemed  to  possess  the  oc- 
cult power  to  strip  them  of  their  moral  armor  with 
a  glance;  to  compel  within  them,  unknowingly  but 
inevitably,  a  quickening  of  the  heart-beats  and  to 
bring  to  the  surface  the  unwelcome  blush  of  ele- 
mental consciousness.  Always  they  lowered  their 
eyes  or  turned  them  away  from  his  bold  gaze  with 
a  sense  of  startled  modesty  and  an  uncomfortably 
rapid  pulse — and  just  as  certainly  would  they  seek 
his  glances  again,  stealthily,  covertly,  and  often 
without  the  power  to  resist  the  mysterious  attrac- 
tion he  exerted  upon  them. 

With  the  hunt  itself  and  with  the  gay  throng  of 
people  who  were  assembled  there  at  the  great  event 
of  the  year  with  the  Forestbrook  Club,  w6  have 
nothing  to  do;  only  with  the  events  of  which  shaped 
themselves  because  of  that  occasion. 

Betty  Keese  had  spent  much  time  in  thought 
after  the  occurrences  of  the  preceding  Monday, 


WHEN  IT  WAS  BETTY'S  MOVE       209 

when  her  brother  had  taken  her  to  ride  in  his  new 
car  solely  for  the  purpose  (as  she  was  well  aware) 
of  compelling  her  to  his  will  in  the  matter  of  aid- 
ing his  mad  scheme  for  the  undoing  of  Katherine 
Harvard.  His  proposal  to  give  her  a  large  sum  of 
money  had  shocked  her  not  because  he  had  offered 
to  pay  it  to  her  for  a  service  she  was  to  perform 
for  him  and  which  he  demanded  in  return  for  it — 
for  Betty  knew  her  brother,  and  that  was  like  him. 
But  she  was  shocked  because  he  possessed  that 
much  to  give,  knowing  that  it  could  represent  but 
a  small  part  of  what  he  had  in  store,  else  he  would 
not  have  offered  it.  And  she  had  not  doubted  his 
earnestness. 

What  she  did  doubt — and  she  had  no  reason  for 
doubting  other  than  her  intimate  understanding  of 
this  man  who  was  her  own  brother — was  that  he 
could  have  become  possessed  of  so  much  money 
honestly.  Betty  understood  Benton's  principles 
thoroughly ;  or,  rather,  his  lack  of  them.  She  knew 
him  to  be  entirely  unmoral,  and  that  he  was  thor- 
oughly an  egotist,  a  self -worshiper,  a  person  with- 
out a  conscience  as  she  understood  the  meaning  of 
the  word. 

Not  for  one  moment  during  her  conversation 
with  him  that  Monday  afternoon  had  she  wavered 
in  her  loyalty  to  Katherine,  although  she  had  per- 
mitted him  to  think  that  she  appeared  to  do  so  re- 
luctantly. Nor  did  she  believe  that  his  passion 
for  her  friend  Kitty  was  what  she  would  have  called 
the  real  thing.  Katherine  Harvard  was  merely 
something  that  he  wanted  and  that  had  been  with- 


210      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

held.  That  was  all,  according  to  Betty's  under- 
standing. But  what  she  did  know,  and  what  she 
did  fear  with  all  her  heart  and  soul,  and  what  she 
was  determined  to  prevent  at  all  hazards,  was  that 
he  would  get  Katherine  by  fair  means  or  by  foul 
ones,  if  the  slightest  opportunity  offered  or  could 
be  forced.  She  also  knew  that  Benton  Keese  would 
not  stop  at  the  commission  of  any  brutality  that 
might  seem  to  him  necessary  or  vital  to  his  selfish 
interests  and  designs. 

Then,  during  the  evening  that  followed,  had  hap- 
pened the  episode  of  the  photograph  and  her  impul- 
sive exclamation  at  the  first  sight  of  it.  Betty  be- 
lieved in  "first  impressions" — first  impulses.  Like- 
wise there  had  remained  with  her  always  certain 
memories  of  her  childhood,  when  she  was  a  little 
girl  and  her  brother  was  a  big  boy,  which  the  flash- 
ing of  that  picture  upon  her  consciousness  had  very 
prominently  brought  to  mind.  In  a  word,  Betty 
was  just  as  shrewd  and  subtle  in  her  own  sweet  and 
pure  way  as  her  Brother  Benton,  and  there  had 
remained  not  the  least  doubt  in  her  secret  thoughts 
(although  she  had  spoken  differently  at  the  time) 
that  the  picture  really  was  a  photograph  of  Benton, 
even  though  he  preferred  to  deny  it. 

And  she  had  sensed,  too,  the  undercurrent  of  in- 
terest that  had  affected  the  others  who  were  present 
at  the  time,  although  she  had  not  understood  it  at 
all.  She  had  asked  herself  mentally  many  times 
since  last  Monday  evening  why  her  brother  had 
denied  the  picture  and  his  own  connection  with  it, 
and  who  and  what  Benton  could  have  been  and 


WHEN  IT  WAS  BETTY'S  MOVE      211 

done  in  the  character  of  Holbrook  Chilton;  and 
always  with  the  thought  of  it  the  memory  of  his 
fifty  thousand  dollars  offer  to  her  returned.  An- 
gered and  incensed  as  she  was  at  the  moment  she 
turned  from  Benton  and  rode  galloping  away  from 
him,  stirred  to  the  depths  also  by  her  unswerving 
loyalty  to  Katherine,  and  roused  to  a  pitch  of  entire 
defiance  of  her  brother's  schemes  against  her  friend 
by  her  intuitive  horror  of  them,  the  scene  in  the 
library  of  Harvard's  home  last  Monday  night 
nevertheless  came  back  to  her  forcefully  before  her 
mount  had  covered  half  the  distance  that  separated 
her  from  her  friends. 

As  in  a  flash,  Betty  saw,  or  believed  that  she  did 
so,  and  clearly,  Benton's  apparent  reason  for  deny- 
ing the  photograph.  Instantly  she  understood  that 
in  some  manner  it  was  associated  with  his  posses- 
sion of  so  much  money — and  she  read,  in  the  mem- 
ory of  that  scene,  the  fact  that  there  had  been  dur- 
ing it  an  undercurrent  of  excited  interest  in  the 
absent  character  of  Chilton  which  every  person  in 
the  room,  save  herself,  had  felt. 

Suddenly,  then,  while  she  was  still  at  some  dis- 
tance from  Tom  and  Kitty,  who  were  drawn  apart 
and  evidently  awaiting  her,  she  wheeled  her  horse 
sharply  around  and  faced  her  brother  again.  And 
he,  mistaking  her  attitude  for  one  of  surrender, 
pulled  in  his  mount  and  rode  leisurely  up  to  her; 
nor  did  he  make  any  effort  to  conceal  the  half  smile 
of  triumph  that  glowed  in  his  eyes  as  he  ap- 
proached. Betty  sat  very  still  in  the  saddle,  wait- 


212      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

ing;  and  when  he  was  quite  close  and  had  come  to 
a  stop  she  said  coldly: 

"Benton,  I  don't  know  why  you  denied  that  you 
were  the  Holbrook  Chilton  of  that  photograph  last 
Monday  night.  But  you  did  deny  it,  and  you  made 
everybody  but  me  believe  in  your  denial.  You  even 
thought  that  you  made  me  believe  it,  too — but  you 
didn't.  And  I  could  read  something  between  the 
lines  of  that  scene  that  was  not  at  all  to  Mr.  Hol- 
brook Chilton's  credit;  something  that  is  known  to 
Mr.  Van  Qeve,  to  Mr.  Harvard,  to  Tom  Clancy, 
and  even  to  Katherine;  something  that  only  I,  of 
all  who  were  present,  did  not  know.  But  I  pro- 
pose to  find  out  exactly  what  it  is  all  about,  Ben 
Keese,  and  if  you  persist  in  persecuting  Kitty  I 
won't  spare  you  when  I  do  find  out,  even  though 
you  are  my  brother. 

"You  have  dared  to  threaten  me,  so  now  I  give 
you  back  threat  for  threat." 

She  touched  her  horse  with  the  crop,  but  her 
brother  bent  forward  and  grasped  her  bridle-rein. 
For  a  moment  after  that  he  glared  into  her  defiant 
eyes  menacingly,  while  a  slow  and  cruel  smile  bared 
his  white  and  even  teeth.  Then,  with  careful  em- 
phasis, he  said,  and  in  a  tone  that  made  her  shud- 
der in  spite  of  herself : 

"You  will  regret  this  attitude  bitterly,  Elizabeth ; 
and,  believe  me,  you  have  only  succeeded  in  has- 
tening the  destruction  of  your  friend — and  your 
own  undoing,  too." 

Then  he  released  her  bridle-rein  and  rode  swiftly 
past  her  toward  the  waiting  group  of  hunters. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

WITH   THE  PACK  IN    FULL   CRY 

Benton  Keese  was  quite  correct  when  he  quoted 
to  Betty  what  he  believed  to  be  the  subject-matter 
that  was  passing  between  Katherine  and  Clancy,  for 
she  had  been  saying  almost  those  very  words  to 
Tom.  But  for  their  talk  together  on  the  subject 
the  preceding  Monday,  Katherine  would  not  have 
ventured  upon  it;  but,  encouraged  by  that  fact  and 
by  certain  intangible  misgivings  by  which  she  was 
beset  concerning  the  possible  incidents  of  the  com- 
ing chase,  and  with  the  positive  knowledge  that 
Benton  Keese  would  cling  to  her  side  throughout 
it,  she  did  ask  Tom  to  keep  as  near  to  them  as  pos- 
sible during  the  run.  And  Clancy  promised,  never 
doubting  that  he  would  be  able  to  keep  his  word. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  unaware  of  the  possibil- 
ities of  Benton  Keese's  subtle  craft;  for  Keese  had 
foreseen  the  likelihood  of  such  a  request  from 
Katherine  and  its  undoubted  interference  with  his 
own  plans.  And  those  plans,  be  it  said,  he  had  de- 
termined to  hasten  to  a  consummation  in  a  marked 
degree,  and  he  had  been  urged  to  that  decision  by 
reason  of  the  several  incidents  that  had  occurred 
during  that  memorable  Monday  afternoon  and 
evening. 

During  the  episode  of  the  photograph,  in  Har- 
213 


214      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

yard's  library  Keese  had  distinctly  the  advantage 
over  the  others  because  of  his  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  character  of  Anderson  Van  Cleve — and  he 
read  plainly  enough  that  certain  undoubted  suspi- 
cions remained  in  the  mind  of  the  miner-contractor 
afterward.  Nor  had  Keese  any  fallacies  in  his 
own  mind  concerning  the  attitude  of  Clancy.  He 
knew  that  Tom  suspected  him,  and  had  done  so 
from  the  beginning.  Also,  he  had  reasoned  it  out 
that  Clancy  had  passed  his  suspicions  on  to  Rush- 
ton.  More  than  all,  he  could  read  in  the  eyes  and 
manner  of  Katherine  that  she,  too,  harbored  grave 
doubts  and  surmises  which  were  none  the  less 
threatening  because  they  happened  to  be,  as  yet, 
indefinite. 

And  then  had  come  the  developments  of  the  night 
that  had  followed,  brought  about  by  the  report  of 
Dudley  Roland ;  the  conference  at  the  bank,  the  in- 
terview that  followed  between  Rushton  and  Van 
Cleve,  Clancy's  summons  to  Van  Cleve  to  go  to 
him,  Rushton's  departure  for  Mexico — for  he  un- 
derstood perfectly  what  the  ticket  to  St.  Louis 
meant.  He  thought,  too,  that  he  knew,  what  Rush- 
ton  had  gone  after,  and  he  cursed  his  own  lack  of 
sufficient  forethought  (the  only  lapse  of  the  kind 
that  he  had  been  guilty  of)  that  had  rendered  the 
success  of  Rushton's  journey  possible. 

So  from  Monday  night  until  Thursday  he  had 
kept  himself  carefully  aloof  from  all  of  them  and 
had  concerned  himself  with  the  completion  of  ar- 
rangements which  he  believed  would  make  his  final 
move  possible  and  successful  in  every  way.  Just 


WITH  THE  PACK  IN  FULL  CRY    215 

what  those  arrangements  were  will  presently  de-- 
velop;  but  in  perfecting  them  it  is  certain  that  he 
saw  much  of  Mr.  Dudley  Roland,  that  he  paid  over 
to  that  person  some  considerable  amounts  of  money 
and  made  promises  of  still  greater  amounts  to  be 
paid  upon  the  happening  of  stipulated  incidents, 
that  he  made  several  trips  to  one  section  of  the 
suburbs  of  the  greater  city  and  that  he  passed  the 
most  part  of,  at  least,  one  afternoon  and  night  in 
the  cafe  of  a  certain  hotel  where  one  heard  only 
the  Spanish  language  spoken — and  where  there  had 
been  some  sums  of  money  passed  from  him  to  these 
persons  whose  services  he  had  thought  it  wise  to 
engage. 

The  passion  of  Benton  Keese  for  Katherine  was 
a  madness  and  it  had  been  aggravated  a  thousand- 
fold by  the  fact  that  another  man  had  won  her  and 
possessed  her.  The  money  he  had  stolen  was  only 
a  means  to  accomplish  the  fruition  of  his  mad 
hopes.  All  that  it  could  buy,  all  that  it  might  pro- 
cure for  him,  all  that  it  was  capable  of  mastering 
for  his  own  benefit  counted  as  nothing  at  all  with- 
out the  accomplishment  of  the  one  initial  passion 
of  his  life — Katherine.  And  he  had  in  his  imme- 
diate possession,  ready  for  instant  use,  a  great  sum 
in  cash.  He  had  not  a  doubt  that  he  would  be  able 
to  meet  every  emergency  and  to  overcome  any  and 
every  obstacle  that  might  stand  in  his  way.  And 
there  would  not  be  one  qualm  of  conscience  to  hold 
him  back  when  the  moment  came  to  throw  his  win- 
ning cards  face  upward  on  the  table  in  the  game  he 
was  playing.  After  that ? 


316      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Keese  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  when  he 
thought  of  the  "afterward."  He  would  meet  and 
reply  to  that  question  when  it  was  presented.  At 
least  he  would  have  conquered  Kitty  Maxwilton  by 
then — and  he  believed  that  he  knew  how  he  could 
make  terms  with  his  enemies  when  the  time  should 
come  to  do  so.  Like  all  schemers,  he  failed  to  give 
due  credit  to  the  resources  of  his  enemies,  although 
he  did  realize  that  the  first  great  coup  of  his  plans 
must  be  accomplished  before  the  return  to  New 
York  of  Rushton. 

Betty  was  not  a  moment  behind  him  when  he 
pulled  rein  beside  Katherine's  thoroughbred  mount 
and  her  eyes  were  still  flashing  with  spirit  when 
she  drew  up  at  the  other  side.  But  if  there  was 
something  in  her  thought  to  which  she  had  in- 
tended to  give  expression,  it  was  interrupted  by 
Clancy's  cheery  announcement: 

"We  are  going  to  have  a  dandy  run  for  our 
money,  Miss  Betty.  This  is  the  Forestbrook's  great 
day  of  all  the  year,  you  know.  And,  say,  isn't  the 
day  itself  a  perfect  corker?" 

Then  he  bent  forward  in  his  saddle  and  said  in 
a  lower  tone  which  the  others  could  not  hear :  "All 
the  same,  Betty  dear,  I'd  chuck  the  whole  business 
in  a  minute  to  steal  away  somewhere  with  you, 
alone." 

Betty  flushed  and  paled  a  little.  Then,  with 
quiet  directness,  she  replied: 

"If  you  really  wish  to  please  me  to-day,  Mr. 
Clancy " 


WITH  THE  PACK  IN  FULL   CRY    217 

"I  won't  try  to  please  you  at  all  if  you  address 
me  in  that  manner,"  he  interrupted,  frowning. 

"Tom,  then;  because  I  do  want  you  to  do  one 
thing  to  please  me." 

"What  is  it?  Quick.  We  have  only  a  moment, 
now." 

"Stay  as  close  to  Kitty  as  you  possibly  can,"  she- 
announced  in  a  half  whisper. 

"Play  interference  against  his  nibs,  your  brother, 
eh?  Is  that  it,  Betty?" 

She  nodded.  "Don't  leave  them  alone  together 
if  you  can  help  it,"  she  said  earnestly.  "I  will 
promise  not  to  be  very  far  away  any  of  the  time.  I 
can  ride." 

"You  don't  need  to  tell  me  that,"  he  replied,  with 
enthusiasm. 

In  the  meantime  and  while  they  were  talking 
Keese  had  remarked  to  Katherine  with  his  face 
turned  from  her  so  that  he  was  apparently  studying 
the  general  topography  that  surrounded  them: 

"You  are  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  ground 
we  will  ride  over,  I  suppose?" 

"I  know  it  fairly  well,"  she  replied. 

"So  do  I."  He  turned  his  head  and  smiled  at 
her.  "I  have  been  studying  it — that  is,  maps  of  it. 
For  instance,  yonder  is  the  Rudolph  place,  isn't  it? 
And  beyond  that,  to  the  right,  the  great  estate  of 
Algernon  Sessions?  And  over  there,  beyond  that 
hill,  there  is  a  deep  ravine,  isn't  there?  with  a  bad 
climb  after  one  crosses  it — if  the  chase  should  lead 
us  there  ?" 


218      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"You  are  well  informed,"  Katherine  said,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Oh,  yes;  from  maps — and  some  personal  in- 
formation. I  spent  nearly  all  of  last  Tuesday  in 
riding  over  this  country  with  a  guide  and  asking 
questions.  Over  beyond  that  ravine,  several  miles 
from  here,  I  found  a  very  interesting  place,  too. 
I  wonder  if  you  happen  to  know  about  it, 
Kitty?" 

"Do  you  mean  the  Ghost  house  ?"  she  asked  with 
some  indication  of  interest,  raising  her  eyes  to  his 
for  the  first  time  and  encountering  them  with  level 
gaze. 

"Yes.  It  is  a  queer  story  that  I  was  told  about 
it — but  quite  in  keeping,  I  should  suppose,  with  the 
careers  of  people  who  were  burdened  by  such  a 
name.  Fancy  being  addressed  as  'Mr.  Ghost!'  or 
as  'Mrs.  Ghost.'  Or  the  emergency  of  having  to 
entertain  the  'Ghosts.'  No  wonder  that  the  people 
down  here  froze  them  out.  Eh?" 

"And  no  wonder,"  she  replied,  "that  being  frozen 
out,  that  having  been  literally  driven  out, 
they  should  refuse  to  sell  the  little  place  at  any 
price,  preferring  to  have  it  go  to  rack  and  ruin  and 
to  become  overgrown  with  a  tangle  of  young  trees 
and  bushes  that  have  become  impenetrable,  so  I  am 
told." 

Katherine  spoke  eagerly,  not  because  she  felt  any 
interest  in  the  Ghost  house  or  in  the  people  who 
owned  it  and  refused  to  live  in  it  or  to  sell  it  and 
who  seemed  to  delight  in  permitting  it  to  become  an 
eyesore  to  the  surrounding  neighborhood,  but  be- 


WITH  THE  PACK  IN  FULL  CRY    219 

cause  the  subject  was  an  eminently  safe  one  be- 
tween Benton  Keese  and  herself. 

It  had  been  given  out  that  the  fox  was  a  wise 
and  crafty  old  Reynard  that  would  give  the  hunters 
"what  was  coming  to  them,"  if  appearances  could 
be  counted  upon.  He  proved  it  in  a  very  short  time 
after  his  release;  and  almost  as  soon  as  the  start 
was  made  shouts  and  calls  of  congratulations 
sounded  from  one  end  of  the  field  to  the  other. 
The  riders  soon  spread  out,  some  with  what  they 
believed  to  be  sagacious  forethought,  to  make  short- 
cuts to  intercept  the  chase  at  another  point,  others 
to  loiter  far  behind  because  they  preferred  to  do 
so,  and  still  others  to  cling  tenaciously  to  the  pack 
with  all  of  the  enthusiasm  of  the  seasoned  fox- 
hunter.  Riding  to  hounds  amounts  almost  to  a 
profession  with  some  people,  to  a  mere  pastime  for 
others,  to  a  relaxation  with  another  class — and  to 
an  enthusiastic  sport  that  gives  intensest  joy  to  a 
very  small  proportion  of  those  who  attend  the 
meets. 

Betty  Keese  belonged  to  the  last  of  these  classi- 
fications; so  did  Tom  Clancy.  Katherine,  too,  felt 
the  thrill  of  it  scarcely  less  than  did  her  two  friends, 
for  it  had  been  her  favorite  sport  at  home,  in 
Kentucky. 

For  a  time  the  four  rode  in  comparative  silence, 
although  there  were  occasional  calls  and  replies  be- 
tween Tom  and  Betty,  for  one  was  quite  as  ex- 
uberant of  spirit  as  the  other  and  neither  was  ever 
a  very  long  time  silent.  They  kept  in  the  van, 
too,  with  very  few  riders  ahead  of  them  and  with 


220      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

many  others  stringing  along  behind  as  the  dogs  led 
the  chase  toward  a  lower  section  of  the  deep  ravine 
where  there  was  an  old  wood  road,  as  Katherine 
remembered,  which  led  directly  to  the  bottom  of  it. 
But  Reynard  apparently  had  preferred  the  more 
difficult  trail  along  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  becoming  bottled  in  the  gully,  for  the 
dogs  had  gone  that  way  and  the  few  hunters  who 
still  led  the  chase  followed. 

Tom  and  Betty  rode  side  by  side,  fifty  or  sixty 
yards  ahead  of  Katherine  and  Keese,  and  had  also 
made  the  turn  and  were  riding  up  the  hillside  along 
the  brow  of  the  cliff  when  there  came  back  to 
the  practiced  ears  of  Benton  Keese  a  confusion  of 
shouts  and  directions  mingled  with  a  new  and  more 
eager  tuning  of  the  hounds  which  he  readily  un- 
derstood. He  and  Katherine  were  directly  at  the 
turn,  at  the  moment,  and  were  side  by  side. 
Toward  their  right  the  way  led  up  the  hill  in  the 
direction  their  leaders  had  taken;  toward  the  left, 
a  few  rods  distant,  was  the  opening  crest  of  the 
wood  road  which  led  to  the  floor  of  the  ravine. 

"Wait,  Kittie !"  Keese  called  out — and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  chase,  in  the  thrill  of  the  tuning 
of  the  hounds  and  the  loud  and  encouraging  cries 
of  the  hunters,  she  forgot  her  determination  not  to 
be  left  for  a  moment  alone  with  him,  and  she 
obeyed;  and  so  they  came  to  a  stop  with  the  shoul- 
ders of  their  horses  almost  touching,  and  waited, 
and  listened. 

Then  one  of  the  dogs  gave  tongue  again,  seem- 
ingly from  the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  but  much 


WITH  THE  PACK  IN  FULL  CRY    221 

farther  up  its  tortuous  course;  and  Benton  Keese 
shouted  aloud  with  an  enthusiasm  that  was  ap- 
parently due  only  to  the  excitement  of  the  hunt. 

"Come!  This  way!  We  will  gain  the  lead  of 
them  all!"  he  added,  at  the  same  time  forcing  his 
hunter  forward  in  such  a  way  that  Katherine's 
horse  was  compelled  to  turn — and  in  another  mo- 
ment the  two  riders  were  galloping  down  the  wood- 
road  toward  the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  neck  and 
neck  and  closely  side  by  side.  Chance — or  was  it 
partly  design? — had  supplied  Benton  Keese  with 
the  opportunity  he  craved. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

GHOST   HOUSE 

They  rode  into  the  ravine  at  the  shallowing  point 
where  it  began  to  widen  into  the  comparatively 
level  reaches  beyond.  As  they  made  the  turn  at 
the  bottom  of  the  wood-road  the  dogs,  which  had 
been  silent  for  an  interval,  gave  tongue  once  more, 
and  their  voices  appeared  to  follow  straight  up  the 
bed  of  the  gully. 

Katherine  thought  as  little  of  altering  her  course 
then  as  did  her  companion,  although  their  reasons 
for  clinging  to  it  were  widely  different ;  only  Kath- 
erine could  not  know  that  fact.  All  of  her  en- 
thusiasm was  bent  upon  the  chase  itself;  Keese 
cared  for  the  hunt,  and  listened  for  the  tuning 
of  the  hounds  only  because  both  were  playing  di- 
rectly into  his  hands. 

And  Keese  wisely  kept  himself  in  the  background 
just  then,  preferring  to  efface  himself  by  giving  her 
the  lead,  knowing  that  she  would  think  less  of  his 
nearness  while  he  was  behind  her  and  so  out  of 
sight.  He  did  not  doubt  that  she  had  temporarily 
forgotten  her  fears  of  him.  He  knew,  too,  that 
somewhat  less  than  a  mile  farther  along  there  was 
a  rough  untraveled  path,  which  led  to  the  top  of 
the  hill  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine;  he  knew, 
because  he  had  ridden  over  it  that  preceding  Tues- 

222 


GHOST   HOUSE  223 

day  when  he  had  gone  there  to  make  a  study  of 
the  neighborhood — and  to  perfect  the  final  arrange- 
ments of  his  plans. 

He  did  not  care  now  whether  the  fox  would 
finally  lead  them  all  the  way  across  the  ravine  or 
not,  for  in  either  event  he  had  succeeded  in  draw- 
ing Katherine  away  from  the  others.  But  that  it 
would  do  so  he  did  not  doubt.  Almost  any  wise 
old  Reynard  would  do  that  very  thing,  experience 
told  him — and  besides  his  guide  of  Tuesday  had 
assured  him  that  if  the  fox  ever  hit  that  ravine  near 
the  bottom  "he  would  make  up  it,  and  head  for  the 
opposite  side  somewhere  near  the  three  beeches." 
So  the  sequel  proved,  and  very  soon. 

Keese  called  out  to  Katherine  to  stop  a  moment 
when  the  voices  of  the  dogs  told  their  story.  With 
the  horses  at  a  standstill  they  could  hear  the 
hounds  as  they  swarmed  down  the  steep  hillside 
on  one  hand  and  up  it  again  on  the  other;  they 
could  hear  the  shouts  of  the  riders,  the  crashing 
sounds  of  young  trees  and  bushes  that  were  dis- 
turbed by  the  passing  steeds,  and  the  ringing  in- 
structions of  the  M.  F.  H.  to  those  who  followed 
after  him.  But  they  could  see  nothing  of  it.  A 
bend  in  the  ravine  shut  out  the  view,  and  they 
waited  in  silence  until  the  voices  of  the  dogs  should 
give  them  more  definite  information. 

And  in  the  meantime  Keese  worked  his  horse 
around  to  the  off-side  of  Katherine's  mount  so 
that  when  the  moment  did  arrive  for  which  he  was 
prepared  he  would  need  only  to  force  his  own 


THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

hunter  ahead  in  order  to  turn  hers  in  the  direction 
he  wanted  it  to  go  perforce. 

"This  way!"  he  shouted  when  the  pack  was  in 
full  cry  again.  "Straight  ahead,  Kitty.  There  is 
a  path  beside  that  big  rock.  It  leads  to  the  top  on 
the  other  side — and  that  is  where  we  have  got  to 

go" 

Forcing  his  own  horse  sharply  forward,  he  shoul- 
dered her  mount  into  the  rugged  path  while  he 
talked,  and  before  she  could  have  prevented  it  had 
she  chosen  to  do  so;  but  she  did  not,  nor  had  a 
thought  of  it  It  was  steep,  insecure  of  footing, 
clogged  by  roots  and  stones,  and  otherwise  offered 
a  precarious  method  of  arriving  at  the  top  of  the 
ravine  on  that  side;  but  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  turning  back  once  they  had  begun  the  ascent. 
They  made  it  finally,  but  their  horses  were  winded 
and  spent,  and  stood  silently  and  with  drooping 
heads  once  they  were  at  the  top. 

It  was  then  that  Katherine  bent  her  head  to  lis- 
ten; and  soon  again  she  raised  it  and  looked  at 
Keese  with  a  startled  expression  in  her  eyes. 

"I  can  hear  nothing,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  hear 
a  sound.  Do  you  ?" 

He  pretended  to  listen — and  shook  his  head 
negatively. 

"Come,  please,"  Katherine  exclaimed.  "We 
must  be  going." 

"Wait,"  Keese  replied,  resting  one  hand  lightly 
upon  her  bridle-rein.  "The  horses  are  winded  by 
that  climb.  We  must  rest  them  a  bit,  Kitty." 


GHOST   HOUSE  225 

He  swung  from  the  saddle  as  he  ceased  speak- 
ing, and  added : 

"Get  down  for  a  moment,  won't  you?  It  will 
rest  you  to  walk  a  little — and  the  horse  as  well." 

But  she  shook  her  head  with  decision. 

"No,"  she  said,  and  remembered  suddenly  and 
not  without  a  twinge  of  fear  that  the  very  thing 
that  she  had  sought  to  avoid  that  day  had  hap- 
pened. She  was  indeed  alone,  and  very  much 
alone,  with  Benton  Keese. 

"I  will  stay  where  I  am,  thank  you.  And  if  the 
horses  are  not  too  tired  I  prefer  to  go  on.  We 
will  lose  all  directions  of  the  chase  if  we  do  not." 

He  nodded  and  started  forward,  leading  his  own 
horse,  and  retaining  his  hold  upon  the  bridle-rein  of 
hers.  Once  she  tried  to  shake  it  free  from  his 
grasp,  but  apparently  he  did  not  notice  the  act.  At 
least  he  paid  no  heed  to  it.  She  did  not  repeat  the 
attempt,  thinking  it  wisdom  not  to  do  so.  There 
was  no  sign  of  a  path  where  they  were,  and  Kath- 
erine  had  no  idea  of  the  direction  he  was  leading 
her  save  that  it  was  straight  away  from  the  bank 
of  the  ravine;  and  it  was  her  belief  that  they  ought 
to  cling  to  it,  or  at  least  keep  it  in  view. 

Presently,  after  she  had  thought  the  matter  out, 
she  ventured  the  suggestion — for  Katherine  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  fact  that  she  was  even  at  that  mo- 
ment a  victim  of  the  man's  subtle  craftiness.  But 
he  shook  his  head. 

"Just  above  here  the  ravine  forks  or  branches. 
There  is  another  and  deeper  one  which  leads  into 
this  one  at  right  angles  a  little  way  above  us.  I 


226      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

saw  it  last  Tuesday.  We  will  have  to  go  around 
it.  Fortunately,  it  is  only  a  short  distance,"  he 
told  her. 

Katherine  made  no  reply  nor  offered  further  re- 
monstrance. And  he  was  silent,  too.  If  Keese 
had  dared  to  look  around  at  her  then,  she  would 
have  understood  everything.  But  he  did  not  do 
so,  for  he  knew  that  he  could  not  disguise  the  glow 
of  triumph  that  was  in  his  eyes,  and  which  would 
leap  in  a  consuming  flame  if  he  should  look  upon 
her. 

They  moved  forward  slowly,  and,  imperceptibly 
to  Katherine,  Keese  constantly  bore  a  trifle  to  the 
left  of  a  straight  course;  for  he  had  a  definite  route 
which  he  meant  to  follow.  It  was  one  which  the 
hunted  fox  had,  fortunately  for  his  plans,  materially 
shortened  by  taking  the  dogs  into  the  deep  ravine 
and  out  of  it  again,  as  it  had  done.  For  a  short 
while  Keese  walked  forward  between  the  horses' 
heads,  leading  them;  but  the  woods  became  thicker 
as  they  had  advanced,  and  they  were  obliged  to  zig- 
zag and  tangent  and  half -circle  in  many  places  in 
order  to  get  through  at  all. 

At  last  Katherine,  who  was  becoming  more  and 
more  conscious  of  their  utter  loneliness — not  a 
sound  of  the  dogs  or  the  hunters  had  reached  her 
ears  since  they  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  bluff  over 
the  ravine — ventured  to  offer  an  objection.  She 
pulled  her  horse  in  sharply. 

"It  seems  to  me  we  are  getting  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  woods,  Benton,"  she  demurred.  "I  do  not 


GHOST   HOUSE 


hear  a  sound  of  the  chase.  The  fox  must  have 
turned  into  the  ravine  again." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  he  said,  halting,  but  studiously 
keeping  his  eyes  averted  from  hers. 

"It  must  be  so,"  she  insisted. 

"Well,  even  then  we  must  keep  on  as  we  are  go- 
ing," he  answered.  "You  know  yourself  that  we 
could  not  enter  the  ravine  again  by  that  path. 
Neither  your  horse  nor  mine  could  do  it." 

She  sighed  audibly,  for  she  did  realize  the  truth 
of  his  statement.  He  continued  before  she  could 
speak  : 

"I  was  not  exactly  at  this  spot  last  Tuesday  when 
I  looked  over  the  country,  but  I  do  know  the  local- 
ity. I  know  that  just  a  little  way  beyond  us  there 
is  a  narrow  road  that  traverses  the  woods  and 
comes  out  upon  the  highway  eventually.  The  way 
I  am  taking  you  now  will  lead  us  to  it." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  that  we  have  lost  ourselves  !" 
she  exclaimed  with  a  touch  of  tragedy  in  her  tone. 

"Nonsense!"  he  retorted.  "We  have  not  lost 
ourselves.  We  will  be  out  of  it  in  a  jiffy.  If  the 
fox  did  double  back  into  the  ravine  he'll  come  out 
again  on  this  side.  We  will  have  the  advantage 
over  all  the  others  in  that  case.  If  you  don't  mind 
following  behind  me  I  will  try  to  make  that  road- 
way even  more  directly." 

Katherine  nodded;  but  her  companion's  eyes 
were  still  averted,  so  she  replied  in  a  low  tone  : 

"Very  well,  Benton  ;  only  please  get  out  of  these 
woods  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Then,  mentally,  she  misjudged  the  man  utterly 


328      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

— and  smiled  to  herself  with  reassurance  because 
she  did  so.  She  misjudged  him  by  thinking  that 
he  was  really  doing  very  nicely  by  not  looking  at 
her  as  he  might  have  done,  to  her  discomfort — and 
by  his  demeanor  of  aloofness  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  they  were  so  utterly  alone  in  the  depths  of 
the  wood.  Her  heart  would  have  beat  much  more 
rapidly  than  it  did  had  she  realized  that  his  aloof- 
ness was  all  a  studied  pose  on  his  part,  done  in 
order  that  he  might  not  startle  his  prize — for 
already  he  regarded  her  so — too  soon.  More  dis- 
tance and  more  time  was  consumed.  It  seemed 
often  as  if  Katherine  would  be  compelled  to  dis- 
mount or  be  swept  from  the  saddle  by  the  limbs  of 
trees  under  which  they  passed  or  by  the  outreach- 
ing  younger  growth  of  the  woods  which  appeared 
to  draw  closer  and  closer  around  her. 

And  then  suddenly  when  she  least  expected  it — 
when  she  was  on  the  point  of  calling  out  to  her 
companion  with  more  objections — they  came  out 
upon  the  narrow  roadway  that  he  had  assured  her 
was  near  at  hand.  It  was  narrow.  It  was  closed 
in  by  a  thick  growth  of  trees  and  bushes  on  either 
side.  Above  their  heads  the  branches  interlaced 
into  a  canopy  that  shut  out  the  sunlight  entirely. 
Beneath  them  on  the  ground  were  twigs  and  chips 
and  growing  weeds  and  grasses,  but  no  sign  of 
wheeltracks.  In  advance  of  them,  no  matter  which 
way  they  might  turn,  the  roadway  disappeared  into 
swinging  curves  and  gave  the  suggestion  that  they 
were  entirely  shut  in. 

An  exclamation  of  dismay  that  Katherine  would 


GHOST   HOUSE 229 

have  uttered  was  arrested  before  it  found  voice, 
for  Benton  Keese,  still  playing  his  part — and  de- 
termined to  do  so  as  long  as  it  would  avail  him — 
turned  and  sprang  into  his  saddle. 

"I  know  now  exactly  where  we  are,  Kitty,"  he 
assured  her.  And  he  did  know,  only  too  well. 
"Come  on.  We  will  be  out  of  this  in  a  very  few 
moments.  That  way";  he  pointed  ahead  of  them 
toward  the  direction  he  wished  to  follow.  "You 
take  the  lead,  and  ride  as  hard  as  you  like.  Look 
out  for  the  limbs  and  branches." 

She  started  forward  gladly,  reassured.  The 
horses  were  rested,  and  responded  quickly  to  the 
wishes  of  their  riders.  Overhanging  branches 
made  it  impossible  for  them  to  travel  side  by  side, 
but  Keese  followed  closely,  and  even  urged  Kath- 
erine  to  greater  speed  as  they  advanced — for  he 
knew  exactly  where  they  were  and  precisely  what 
the  next  few  moments  would  develop. 

Katherine  had  often  heard  about  the  Ghost 
house;  she  had  even  seen  pictures  of  it;  but  she  had 
never  visited  it,  and  so  she  could  not  guess  that 
they  were  rapidly  riding  toward  it  by  the  only  road 
that  could  take  them  there,  and  that  the  route  to 
the  main  highway  was  directly  behind  them;  that 
they  were  riding  away  from  it  instead  of  toward 
it.  Then,  without  warning,  they  came  out  upon  a 
comparatively  open  space.  A  high  wall  of  moss- 
grpwn  and  discolored  bricks  confronted  them, 
pierced  by  a  gateway  that  stood  invitingly  open — 
and  the  speed  at  which  they  had  been  traveling  car- 
ried her  past  it  before  she  could  pull  in. 


230      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Katherine  realized  the  presence  of  two  men,  one 
at  either  side,  as  they  rode  swiftly  between  the  stone 
gate-posts.  She  saw  directly  in  front  of  her  a 
square  stone  house  with  wings  at  either  side  that 
was  almost  completely  hidden  by  a  riot  of  climbing 
vines  and  a  rank  growth  of  young  trees  in  the  fore- 
ground. She  heard  the  clang  of  iron  against  iron 
as  the  gate  was  banged  shut  behind  her.  She 
recognized  from  its  pictures  the  Ghost  house  before 
her.  She  saw  Benton  Keese  leap  from  the  saddle 
to  the  ground  and  throw  his  bridle  into  the  grasp 
of  a  man  who  sprang  toward  him.  She  knew  then 
that  she  had  ridden  into  a  trap. 

Benton  Keese  moved  quickly  to  her  side  and 
seized  the  bit  of  her  horse's  bridle;  and  for  the 
first  time  in  more  than  an  hour  he  looked  into  her 
eyes.  He  was  smiling,  too — a  smile  that  was  trium- 
phant and  cruel  and  evil. 

"Welcome  to  Ghost  house,  Kitten,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE  TRIUMPH   OF  BENTON   KEESE 

There  is  a  time  when  terror  amounts  to  a  pas- 
sion. Intense  anger  is  one.  Lady  Kate  experi- 
enced both  in  that  instant  of  revelation.  As  a  cur- 
tain is  swept  aside  to  expose  a  wide  range  of  view 
she  saw  mentally  and  understood  instinctively  every 
item  of  the  circumstance  into  which  she  had  per- 
mitted herself  to  blunder.  Rage  possessed  her;  ter- 
ror held  her  chained.  Yet,  furious-eyed  and  in  ter- 
ror, too,  she  lifted  her  riding-crop  on  high  and 
would  have  struck  Benton  Keese  with  it  if  he  had 
not  reached  out  and  torn  it  from  her  grasp  and 
flung  it  aside  among  the  weeds  and  grass. 

Then  he  came  closer  to  her  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Dismount!"  he  commanded  her. 

Katherine  did  not  offer  to  move. 

Keese  waited  a  moment,  smilingly.     Then: 

"I  hope  you  won't  force  me  to  lift  you  from 
the  saddle,  Kitten,"  he  said,  with  quiet  meaning. 
(Oh,  how  she  hated  his  use  of  her  childhood's 
name!) 

She  glanced  around  her  on  this  side  and  on  that, 
dazed.  Terror  gripped  her,  but  she  strove  against 
it  with  all  the  fortitude  she  could  summon.  No- 
where could  she  discover  a  means  of  escape  from 

231 


THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

the  terrible  situation.  Nowhere  was  there  a  sign 
of  life  about  her,  save  for  one  man  of  foreign  as- 
pect who  remained  near  them  as  if  waiting  to  take 
away  her  horse  as  the  other  man  had  done  with 
Benton's;  and  his  back  was  turned.  If  he  had 
ears  and  could  hear  and  eyes  and  could  see,  or 
muscles  and  could  move,  he  gave  no  outward  evi- 
dences of  those  gifts. 

The  wall  of  brick  topped  with  broken  bottles 
and  ragged  glass  that  surrounded  the  house  and  its 
outbuildings  enclosed  two  or  three  acres  of  ground 
that  was  overgrown  with  tangled  weeds  which  were 
in  turn  choked  by  bushes  and  sprouting  trees. 

Katherine  already  knew  enough  about  the  house 
and  its  strange  story  to  realize  how  utterly  isolated 
it  was;  how  fruitless  it  would  be  for  her  to  call 
for  aid ;  how  rarely  it  was  visited,  even  by  the  curi- 
ous. For  the  winding  roadway  that  led  to  it 
through  the  woods  had  long  been  impassable  for 
automobiles  and  carriages.  Riding  parties  visited 
it  at  long  intervals — when  the  guest  of  a  neighbor- 
hood insisted  upon  seeing  the  place ;  but  those  occa- 
sions were  rare  indeed. 

Katherine's  talk  with  Tom  Clancy  when  they 
rode  home  together  in  her  car  recurred  to  her 
oddly  then.  She  knew  that  if  she  had  possessed  a 
weapon  she  would  have  shot  Benton  Keese  dead  at 
that  moment.  But  she  was  helpless — weaponless. 
Even  her  stout  crop  had  been  snatched  away  from 
her.  And  all  the  while — it  was  less  than  a  minute 
of  time  although  it  seemed  an  aeon  to  her — the 
man  who  had  so  foully  tricked  her  stood  beside  her 


TRIUMPH   OF  BENTON  KEESE      233 

horse  with  his  firm  grasp  upon  the  bit,  waiting,  smil- 
ing, confident,  and  as  relentless  in  his  designs  against 
her  as  he  would  be  merciless  in  fulfilling  them. 

"Get  down,  my  dear,"  he  said  softly;  and  she 
reached  out  and  struck  at  him  with  her  open  hand ; 
a  blow  which  he  easily  avoided  and  concerning 
which  he  made  no  comment. 

Katherine  called  aloud  then  to  the  man  who 
waited  with  his  back  turned  toward  them — and  who 
seemed  not  to  hear  her  when  she  did  call;  and 
Keese  announced,  imperturbably : 

"He  is  my  creature,  Kitten,  and  he  does  not  un- 
derstand a  word  of  English.  I  was  careful  about 
that.  The  two  men  you  have  seen  were  Mexican 
mountaineers — bandits,  in  other  words — before 
they  crossed  the  Rio  Grande  into  this  country  to 
save  their  worthless  and  forfeited  lives. 

"One  of  them  has  a  wife,  and  she  is  here,  too. 
None  of  them  speak  English.  Don't  you  think  I 
have  planned  well?" 

He  stepped  nearer  to  her  as  he  ceased  speaking 
and  held  out  his  hands;  but  she  shrank  from  him, 
cowering  in  the  saddle  and  clinging  to  it  desper- 
ately. Then  she  thought  to  plead  with  him. 

"Please  let  me  go  away,  Benton,"  she  asked  him 
piteously.  "In  memory  of  your  sweet  and  good 
mother  whom  I  loved,  let  me  go.  For  Betty's  sake, 
in  the  name  of  your  own  dear  sister,  order  that 
gate  to  be  opened  and  let  me  ride  away,  unharmed. 
I  promise — I  promise  you  on  my  honor  as  a  Ken- 
tucky girl  that  I  will  never  reveal  what  has  hap- 
pened to-day  if  you  will  only  do  that.  For  my  own 


234      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

sake,  Benton.  Please  let  me  go  away.  Won't  you, 
Benton?" 

He  made  no  answer  by  word  or  sign.  His  eyes 
only  gloated  upon  her,  lurid  with  the  sure  triumph 
and  the  sense  of  possession  that  glistened  within 
their  depths. 

She  went  on  again,  although  she  knew  that  her 
plea  was  hopeless ;  yet  she  added  one  other  to  it. 

"We  were  children  together,  Benton;  playmates. 
You  professed  to  love  me,  even  then.  We  grew 
older,  and — Oh,  for  God's  sake,  Benton,  open  the 
gate  and  let  me  go  away!" 

"No,  Kitten."  He  spoke  with  exceeding  quiet, 
but  with  a  finality  that  was  adamant.  "You  are 
here  to  stay — for  the  present.  Soon  we  will  go 
away — together — to  the  other  side  of  the  world,  if 
you  will;  but  together  always  henceforth.  It  is 
written.  There  can  be  no  other  way." 

She  was  white  by  now — white  to  the  lips;  and 
rigid  where  she  sat  in  the  saddle.  A  chill  gripped  at 
her  heart.  He  spoke  again,  smoothly,  evenly,  re- 
morselessly, relentlessly. 

"You  are  mine,  Kitten.  You  always  were  mine ; 
but  you  succeeded  in  evading  me.  But  I  have  over- 
taken you  at  last  You  shall  not,  you  cannot  evade 
me  now." 

She  shuddered. 

"When  you  fled  from  me,  I  sought  you  every- 
where, high  and  low;  far  and  near.  But  my  funds 
gave  out.  I  had  no  money,  and  I  needed  it  badly. 
I  knew  that  I  must  get  some,  somewhere;  it  did 
not  matter  how.  Mexico  has  long  attracted  me.  I 


TRIUMPH  OF  BENTON  KEESE      235 

went  there.  I  believed  that  I  could  hold  you,  as  I 
had  always  done,  in  fear  and  trembling,  even  at  a 
distance;  and  I  knew  that  you  did  not  love  any 
other  man.  I  went  there,  to  Mexico.  Fate  directed 
my  steps  to  Anderson  Van  Cleve.  In  him  and 
his  possessions  I  saw  and  recognized  my  oppor- 
tunity. I  meant  to  have  all  of  his  property,  instead 
of  only  a  small  part  of  it.  But  there  is  sufficient.  I 
have  got  enough.  Oh,  yes;  I  was  the  Holbrook 
Chilton  of  the  photograph. 

"Then — I  returned.  Always  I  had  had  the  Lex- 
ington papers  sent  to  me,  but  the  one  that  contained 
the  announcement  of  your  marriage,  the  account  of 
your  visit  to  Europe  and  of  your  return  was  lost. 
The  information  did  not  get  to  me  until  very  shortly 
before  I  came  away  from  Mexico.  But  I  had 
studied  the  man  I  intended  to  rob.  I  knew  of  the 
moneys  he  had  forwarded  to  New  York  and  the 
name  of  the  bank  where  they  were  deposited;  and 
I  discovered  that  the  president  of  the  bank  was  the 
man  you  had  married;  that  the  former  president 
of  it,  Van  Cleve's  friend,  was  traveling  in  Egypt. 

"I  swore  then  that  I  would  take  you  away  from 
Bingham  Harvard.  Well,  I  have  done  it.  I  have 
taken  you  from  him.  You  shall  never  return  to 
him.  These  arms" — he  spread  them  widely — "shall 
be,  henceforth,  your  resting  place.  You  are  mine, 
and  nothing  in  heaven,  or  on  earth,  or  in  hell,  can 
change  that  fact.  Presently,  after  a  time,  when 
there  is  a  divorce  if  you  will  have  it  so  and  if  you 
can  bring  Harvard  to  terms,  we  will  be  married. 
You  will  be  my " 


236      THE   NIGHT   WIND'S  PROMISE 

Slowly  she  turned  her  face  toward  him  and  at  the 
sight  of  it  he  stopped.  Marble  could  not  have  been 
whiter  or  more  set  and  rigid.  Horror  unspeakable 
was  in  her  eyes.  She  swayed  in  the  saddle,  and 
he  reached  out  and  seized  her  and  pulled  her  from 
it  before  she  could  find  strength  to  resist  him. 
She  tottered  in  his  grasp,  and  he  passed  an  arm 
around  her.  Then  he  spoke  a  sharp  command 
to  the  waiting  Mexican,  and  led  Katherine,  unre- 
sisting, toward  the  house. 

The  sense  of  triumph  within  Benton  Keese  at 
that  moment  was  great  indeed.  He  believed  that 
Katherine  understood  the  utter  futility  of  resist- 
ance, and  had  surrendered.  Indeed  it  seemed  so. 
She  walked  beside  him,  totteringly,  dumbly,  half 
leaning  upon  him  and  unmindful  of  his  physical 
support  or  of  his  encircling  arm.  He  did  not  ad- 
dress her  again;  she  did  not  attempt  to  speak  to 
him.  So  they  passed  partly  around  the  house  and 
entered  it  across  a  porch  where  there  was  an  open 
door  and  came  upon  a  room  that  had  been  made 
comfortably  habitable,  and  where  a  dark-visaged 
woman  with  handsome,  flashing,  questioning  eyes, 
waited. 

Keese  led  Katherine  to  a  low  chair,  placed  her 
softly  in  the  depths  of  it,  and  then  did  a  dastardly 
act,  which,  however,  Katherine  did  not  seem  to  no- 
tice. He  bent  over  and  touched  his  lips,  that  were 
burning  hot,  to  hers,  that  were  like  icicles.  Then, 
with  an  order,  spoken  in  Spanish  and  an  imperative 
gesture  toward  the  Mexican  woman  who  waited, 
he  passed  outside  again,  and  closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

APPROACHING  A  CRISIS 

The  daring  and  assurance  of  Benton  Keese  were 
superb.  Outside  of  the  house,  just  around  one 
corner  of  it,  he  paused  to  wait ;  and  soon  the  Mex- 
ican woman  came  out  to  him,  bringing  in  her  hands 
Katherine's  hat  and  gauntlets.  These  he  seized 
upon,  and  with  a  few  hurried  but  emphatic  direc- 
tions to  the  woman  turned  away,  whistling  a  signal 
of  some  sort  as  he  went. 

At  the  spot  where  he  had  taken  Katherine  from 
the  saddle  he  searched  for  a  moment  and  recovered 
her  riding  crop  from  where  he  had  cast  it  among 
the  woods.  One  of  the  Mexicans  reappeared,  lead- 
ing both  of  the  horses  and  Keese  sprang  into  the 
saddle  of  his  own  mount.  He  paused  only  long 
enough  to  utter  some  further  admonitory  direc- 
tions, then  the  gate  was  opened  for  him  and  he  rode 
away.  He  crossed  the  ravine  by  the  same  rugged 
pathway  he  had  followed  with  Katherine,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  assured  her  that  they  could 
not  return  that  way.  But  he  forced  the  horses  to  it, 
caring  little  whether  they  might  fall  and  break  a 
leg  or  a  neck,  but  arriving  at  the  bottom  without 
accident. 

At  the  top  of  the  wood-road  on  the  opposite  side 
where  with  Lady  Kate  beside  him  he  had  paused 
237 


238      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

to  listen  to  the  hounds  and  where  he  had  induced 
her  to  follow  him  into  the  ravine,  he  got  down  from 
his  own  horse,  made  the  bridle  rein  fast  to  a  con- 
venient limb  and  then  went  onward  up  the  brow 
of  the  hill  over  the  gully,  leading  the  horse  that 
Katherine  had  ridden.  It  was  not  difficult  for  him 
to  find  the  place  where  the  fox  had  turned  into 
the  ravine,  where  the  dogs  had  followed  along  a 
ledge  of  shelving  slate  and  where  the  hunters  had 
not  dared  to  go  because  of  the  treacherous  charac- 
ter of  the  descent.  But  he  went  on  a  little  farther 
and  found  the  place  where  the  riders  had  taken  to 
the  steep  hillside,  plainly  disclosed  by  the  loosened 
earth  and  stones  and  broken  twigs. 

He  nodded  with  satisfaction  and  returned  to  the 
rocky  ledge  across  which  the  hunted  fox  and  the 
pursuing  hounds  had  passed,  halting  with  Kather- 
ine's  horse  just  above  it.  For  a  moment  he  stood 
there  looking  downward  across  the  ledge,  while 
a  slow  smile  that  was  not  pleasant  to  see  gathered 
upon  his  mobile  lips.  Then  he  took  two  steps 
backward  and  raised  his  heavy  crop.  He  struck 
with  it,  using  all  the  strength  of  his  arm,  and  the 
blow  fell  smartingly  and  stinging  and  without 
warning  upon  the  horse's  flank — and  the  animal, 
headed  directly  for  the  gulf  in  front  of  him  and  so 
near  to  it  that  his  fore  feet  were  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  bank,  plunged  ahead  in  terror  when  the  cruel 
blow  fell  upon  him. 

The  horse  slipped  upon  the  ledge  and  fell.  It 
crashed  against  a  group  of  saplings,  crushing  them 
to  earth.  Nevertheless,  they  impeded  the  force  of 


APPROACHING   A    CRISIS  239 

the  fall  and  doubtless  spared  the  outraged  creature 
the  broken  bones  that  he  might  otherwise  have  suf- 
fered. After  that  the  animal  rolled  over  and  over 
down  the  steep  hill,  struggling;  and  Keese  stood 
looking  on  with  that  set  smile  upon  his  handsome 
features,  apparently  without  emotion  or  pity. 
Stones  were  dislodged,  bushes  and  underbrush 
were  crushed  and  bruised  and  torn  from  their  roots, 
young  saplings  were  laid  flat — and  then  the  horse 
brought  up  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree  that  was 
fifty  feet  below  where  Keese  was  standing,  and 
after  a  dazed  moment  of  uncertainty  it  struggled 
feebly  to  its  feet  and  stood  there  trembling. 

Keese  flung  Katherine's  hat  toward  the  animal, 
which  frightened  it  anew,  and  it  started  down  the 
hillside,  limping.  Apparently  no  bones  were 
broken;  seemingly  it  had  suffered  nothing  more 
serious  than  bruises  and  temporary  lameness. 
Keese  waited  yet  another  moment  until  the  horse 
had  disappeared  beyond  a  dense  growth  of  ever- 
greens, then  he  flung  the  crop  that  Katherine  had 
carried  after  it  and  followed  that  with  her  gauntlets, 
one  by  one — but  he  took  the  precaution  to  tear  one 
of  them  almost  in  half  and  to  grind  them  both 
against  the  ground  beneath  his  heel  before  he  parted 
with  them. 

An  hour  later  he  rode  in  at  the  club  house,  and 
the  grooms  and  members  of  the  club  who  hastened 
toward  him  did  so  because  they  had  been  able  to 
see  even  from  a  distance  as  he  drew  near  that  he 
had  met  with  an  accident.  He  reeled  in  his  saddle 
but  permitted  himself  to  be  assisted  from  it  to  the 


240      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

ground,  where  he  stood  upon  both  feet  and  smiled 
a  reassurance  toward  the  anxious  faces  that  sur- 
rounded him.  One  side  of  his  face  was  smeared 
with  grass-stain  and  dirt  from  the  ground ;  his  rid- 
ing coat  was  torn  and  badly  soiled,  his  collar  was 
torn  from  its  fastenings  and  his  tie  was  gone  en- 
tirely. One  of  his  gloves  was  ripped  up  the  back 
its  entire  length  and  the  other  one  was  missing ;  his 
cap,  crushed  and  stained,  was  on  his  head.  Alto- 
gether he  presented  a  sorry  spectacle. 

And  his  mount  was  in  a  plight  almost  as  bad, 
so  far  as  dirt  and  soil  and  stains  were  concerned. 
One  stirrup  was  missing  and  the  strap,  or  what  re- 
mained of  it,  showed  plainly  where  it  had  been 
torn  apart  violently.  The  bridle  was  also  broken 
in  two  places,  although  not  so  badly  that  it  had 
not  served  for  his  return  to  the  clubhouse.  The 
saddle-girth  had  also  been  broken  and  tied  together 
again  in  a  knot 

"My  girth  broke  just  when  I  got  to  the  edge  of 
that  ravine,"  he  explained.  "I  have  forgotten  wh~"- 
you  call  it.  Mrs.  Harvard  was  just  ahead  of  mt, 
but  I  called  out  to  her  what  the  trouble  was  and  told 
her  to  go  on;  that  I  would  overtake  her.  Mr. 
Clancy  and  my  sister  were  somewhere  ahead  of 
Mrs.  Harvard,  but  not  in  sight. 

"Well,  I  tied  the  girth  as  best  I  could  and  re- 
mounted. Then  in  my  eagerness  to  catch  up  with 
the  others  and  in  my  ignorance  of  the  country  over 
which  I  had  to  ride — and  also  because  the  cry  of 
the  pack  told  me  that  the  fox  had  taken  to  the  ravine 
• — I  dived  into  it,  in  the  belief  that  I  could  head  off 


APPROACHING   A    CRISIS 


my  companions.  The  fox  crossed  the  ravine  and 
ascended  the  opposite  side  —  or  I  believed  that  it 
did  so.  I  found  a  path,  or  a  place  that  had  once 
been  one,  and  attempted  it,  and  I  made  the  top  all 
right.  But  up  there  I  discovered  that  I  was  all 
wrong  and  I  made  the  mistake  of  attempting  to 
return  by  the  way  I  had  gone. 

"My  horse  fell  with  me.  I  reckon  that  the  jolt 
of  it  knocked  me  silly  —  I  feel  a  little  that  way,  yet 
—  and  when  I  woke  up  I  found  the  horse  waiting 
for  me  at  the  bottom  of  the  gully.  Then  I  man- 
aged to  get  here.  And  that  is  all." 

It  was  a  perfectly  logical  tale.  Nobody  thought 
to  doubt  it.  Keese  was  assisted  into  the  clubhouse  ; 
he  was  afforded  every  facility  for  making  himself 
presentable  again;  refreshments  were  given  to  him 
and  he  was  the  center  of  a  group  of  men  and 
women  when  the  riders  began  to  come  straggling 
home.  Then,  among  the  very  last  to  make  their 
appearance  Tom  and  Betty  arrived.  They  were  not 
slow  to  hear  of  the  accident  to  Benton  Keese.  It 
had  been  one  among  several  that  day,  all  of  a  minor 
character,  none  serious,  fortunately  ;  but  Betty  hur- 
ried to  her  brother  just  the  same,  and  Tom  fol- 
lowed as  a  matter  of  course. 

A  glance  told  Betty  that  Benton  was  not  badly 
hurt,  and  at  once,  instead  of  referring  to  possible 
injuries  that  he  might  have  received,  she  demanded  : 

"Where  is  Kitty?" 

"Katherine?"  he  replied,  lifting  his  brows  in  well 
simulated  astonishment.  "Didn't  she  return  with 
you  and  the  others?" 


THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"No.  She  did  not,"  Betty  asserted  abruptly.  "I 
haven't  seen  her  since  the  start.  She  was  behind 
us,  with  you.  Where  is  she?" 

Clancy  drew  nearer,  listening,  and  watching 
closely.  He  saw  Keese  shrug  his  shoulders  and 
make  a  gesture  of  deprecation.  He  heard  the  Ken- 
tuckian  reply  coolly : 

"She  must  be  outside  somewhere,  Betty.  I 
haven't  seen  her  since  my  girth  broke.  I  called  to 
her  then  to  go  on,  that  I  would  soon  follow;  and 
she  did  so.  You  and  Clancy  were  just  ahead  of  us, 
so  she  must  have  followed  close  behind  you.  By 
the  time  I  had  tied  the  girth  the  fox  had  taken  to 
the  ravine — at  least  I  thought  so.  Anyhow,  I 
turned  down  that  wood  road  that  you  must  have 
noticed  when  you  passed  it.  I  wish  now  that  I  had 
not." 

Tom  Clancy's  eyes  had  been  narrowing  danger- 
ously with  every  syllable  that  Keese  uttered. 

"Where  were  you  when  you  got  down  to  tie 
your  saddle  girth?"  he  asked,  quietly. 

"Oh!  Hello,  Clancy.  I  was  right  there  at  the 
top  of  that  wood  road  into  the  ravine.  You  no- 
ticed it,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes.    Where  was  Katherine?" 

"Five  or  six  rods  ahead  of  me,  following  after 
you  and  Betty.  You  were  out  of  my  sight  at  the 
moment;  Mrs.  Harvard  passed  out  of  it  a  moment 
later.  I  had  some  difficulty  in  tying  the  girth." 

"And  you  did  not  follow  after  her  when  you  had 
tied  it?" 


243 


"No.  I  have  just  explained  that  I  followed  the 
wood  road  into  the  ravine." 

"Do  we  understand  that  you  have  not  seen  Mrs. 
Harvard  from  that  moment  to  this  one,  Mr. 
Keese?" 

"Most  certainly  you  do,  Mr.  Clancy.  I  crossed 
the  ravine  and  ascended  a  steep  path  at  the  oppo- 
site side.  When  I  tried  to  return  by  the  same  way 
my  horse  fell  with  me.  It  knocked  the  wind  out 
of  me,  and  my  relish  for  the  hunt  as  well.  I  re- 
turned here  as  soon  as  I  was  able  to  do  so." 

Betty  had  stepped  backward  a  little,  and  her 
bright  eyes  were  boring  into  her  brother's  conscious- 
ness— or  she  meant  them  to.  For  Betty  did  not 
believe  his  story.  Neither  did  Tom  Clancy ;  but  he 
did  not  consider  that  moment  the  proper  time  to 
say  so.  He  turned  about  abruptly. 

"I  will  make  some  inquiries,"  he  announced 
shortly  and  departed. 

Betty  stepped  forward,  nearer  to  her  brother, 
and  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes.  The  two  were, 
for  the  moment,  comparatively  alone,  others  who 
had  been  near  having  withdrawn  or  been  called 
away. 

"I  don't  believe  you,  Ben,"  she  said  fiercely,  un- 
der her  breath ;  but  her  eyes  were  blazing,  her 
cheeks  were  flushed,  and  all  her  Southern  spirit  was 
aroused. 

Keese  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled 
up  at  her  from  the  depths  of  his  chair. 

"You  are  lying!"  she  reasserted  hotly,  but  still 
in  a  low  tone;  but  he  did  not  even  flush  beneath 


244      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

the  taunt.  Instead,  he  shrugged  again,  and  widened 
his  smile  until  it  became  one  of  defiant  derision. 

"I  warned  you,"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  and 
still  smiling. 

"So !    You  dare  to  admit " 

"Only  the  truth  of  what  I  have  already  told  you," 
he  interrupted.  "Don't  get  tragic,  Betty.  You  will 
attract  the  attention  of  others  if  you  do  that.  And 
there  is  no  need  for  it.  Go  outside  and  look  for 
Kitten,  as  Clancy  has  already  done.  You  will  find 
her  there,  I  haven't  a  doubt." 

"You  lie,  Ben  Keese!  You  know  you  do.  You 
have  done  something  to  Kitty  that  is  keeping  her 
away  from  us.  I  know  you  have.  I  can  read  it  in 
your  eyes." 

He  shrugged  again  and  did  not  answer;  and  she 
bent  down  until  her  beautiful,  flushed  face  was 
close  to  his. 

"You  did  warn  me,"  she  said  in  a  tense  under- 
tone. "And  I  warned  you,  too.  And  now  I  want 
to  tell  you  this  much ;  Bingham  Harvard  is  due  to 
arrive  here  at  any  moment,  and  if  there  is  no  news 
of  Kitty  before  he  gets  here  I  shall  go  to  him  at 
once  and  tell  him  everything  that  you  have  said  to 
me.  Everything!  Do  you  understand?" 

"Perfectly,  my  dear  sister,"  he  replied;  and 
laughed  in  a  low  tone.  "Go  ahead !" 

She  turned  away  and  passed  through  a  doorway 
to  the  veranda  just  at  the  moment  when  a  big  tour- 
ing car  drew  up  and  stopped  before  it,  and  Bingham 
Harvard,  with  Anderson  Van  Cleve,  got  down  from 
it.  Betty  went  forward  impetuously  to  meet  them. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

AN  INTERCEPTED  BLOW 

As  Betty  started  forward  toward  Bingham  Har- 
vard with  the  impulse  upon  her  to  tell  him  instantly 
all  that  she  knew  and  all  that  she  suspected,  her 
brother  came  swiftly  through  one  of  the  French 
windows  and  intercepted  her.  Benton  Keese  pos- 
sessed the  faculty  of  moving  swiftly  without  giving 
the  appearance  of  doing  so,  and  if  there  were  other 
eyes  turned  in  that  direction  just  then,  they  could 
have  noticed  nothing  to  attract  their  attention. 

In  reality,  however,  the  act  of  Benton  Keese  was 
anything  but  leisurely  and  meaningless.  He  had 
gone  to  that  window  and  stood  just  within  it,  watch- 
ing when  Betty  had  left  him  with  that  threat  on 
her  lips,  and  of  course  he  had  seen  also  the  arrival 
of  the  automobile  that  brought  Harvard  and  Van 
Cleve.  In  intercepting  his  sister  Keese  stepped  di- 
rectly in  front  of  her.  His  hand  fell  upon  her  arm 
above  the  wrist,  and  his  fingers  closed  upon  it  with 
a  pressure  that  made  her  wince  with  pain. 

"Let  go  of  me!"  She  spoke  out  sharply;  but 
unfortunately  the  attention  of  all  who  were  near  at 
hand  was  riveted  upon  the  new  arrivals,  and  nobody 
heard.  Instead  of  complying,  Keese  turned  Betty 
half  around,  and  before  she  understood  what  he 
meant  to  do  he  had  forced  her  through  the 
245 


246      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

open  window  into  the  room  beyond  it.  One  quick 
glance  around  told  him  that  they  were  entirely 
alone. 

Betty  attempted  to  pull  herself  away  from  his 
detaining  grasp,  but  his  fingers  only  gripped  her 
arm  the  tighter  as  he  continued  to  force  her  on- 
ward, across  the  room,  out  of  it  through  a  door- 
way opposite,  along  the  wide  corridor  which  hap- 
pened (as  if  the  devil  himself  aided  the  man)  to 
be  deserted,  and  into  one  of  the  several  small  par- 
lors that  fringed  one  side  of  the  hall.  There,  he 
closed  the  door  behind  them  and  swung  his  sister 
none  too  gently  into  a  convenient  chair. 

Betty  raised  her  stormy  eyes  to  his  then,  and 
her  lips  parted  to  voice  the  rage  that  boiled  within. 
But  no  sound  came  from  them.  She  shuddered  and 
shrank  backward  as  if  she  would  withdraw  more 
deeply  into  the  chair.  Ever  since  Betty  could  re- 
member her  brother  had  been  addicted  to  certain 
moods  and  tempers  which  filled  her  with  terror. 
Ordinarily,  she  stood  in  much  less  awe  of  him  than 
others  did;  but,  beyond  and  behind  all  of  his 
moods  there  was  one  quality  that  could  be 
roused  on  occasion,  which  filled  her  with  the  same 
unspeakable  dread  she  might  have  experienced  if, 
unwarned,  she  had  been  suddenly  thrust  inside  the 
cage  of  a  couchant  tiger.  That  mood  was  upper- 
most just  then,  and  she  recognized  it ;  and  it  fright- 
ened her  into  silence. 

He  stood  directly  in  front  of  her,  looking  down 
into  her  eyes  with  a  strange  expression  on  his  face, 
which  was  not  a  smile,  but  which  bared  his  white 


AN  INTERCEPTED   BLOW  247 

teeth  nevertheless,  and  transformed  the  handsome 
qualities  of  his  features  into  a  menacing  horror. 

"You  poor  little  fool,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone  and 
without  emphasis.  "Do  you  think  that  you  could 
stop  me  now?  Or  that  Harvard  could  stop  me? 
Or  that  all  the  angels  and  devils  in  heaven  and  hell 
could  change  what  has  already  happened?" 

Betty  shuddered  and  tried  to  shrink  still  farther 
from  him.  He  went  on,  in  the  same  quiet  tone  of 
awful  menace: 

"Are  you  Kitten's  friend — or  are  you  Bing  Har- 
vard's friend?  If  you  are  his  friend,  even  to  her 
utter  undoing,  go  to  him  now  and  tell  him  all  you 
think  you  know  and  everything  that  you  surmise." 

Betty  heard  only  indistinctly  the  words  of  his 
later  speech,  for  that  other  one  that  had  preceded 
it  was  still  ringing  in  her  consciousness;  and,  as 
if  he  perceived  that  it  did,  he  repeated  the  last  part 
of  it  that  had  horrified  her  so. 

"Do  you  think  that  all  the  powers  of  heaven  and 
hell  could  change  and  undo  the  things  that  have 
already  happened?" 

Repetition  of  the  awful  suggestiveness  of  his 
question  galvanized  Betty  into  action.  With  a  cry 
as  if  he  had  pricked  her  with  the  point  of  a  knife, 
or  had  jabbed  a  needle  into  her  flesh,  Betty  started 
to  her  feet  and  stood  quivering  but  resolute  before 
him.  Her  terror  was  turned  to  fury.  She  was  sud- 
denly become  the  proverbial  female  of  the  species 
at  bay,  and  cornered.  She  was  transformed  into 
the  primitive  woman,  beside  herself  with  rage  and 
shame  and  horror,  and  hate  of  the  man  who  faced 


248      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

her,  even  though  he  was  her  own  blood  brother. 
For  just  an  instant  she  stood  so;  then  she  flew  at 
him,  her  arms  extended,  her  fingers  tense,  as  if  she 
would  clutch  him  by  the  throat  and  tear  out  the 
tongue  that  had  dared  to  utter  an  inference  so  vile. 

Keese  easily  repulsed  her.  He  seized  Betty's 
wrists  and  twisted  them  until  she  cried  out  with 
the  pain;  and  then  he  flung  her  roughly  into  the 
upholstered  chair  again,  and  took  a  step  or  two 
forward  so  that  he  stood  over  her. 

"None  of  that,  you  little  bobcat,"  he  said  coldly. 
Then  he  bent  nearer  to  her  and  said  fiercely: 

"If  you  want  to  go  to  Kitten,  you  may.  You 
shall  go  where  she  is  as  soon  as  we  can  get  away 
from  this  place.  And  she  needs  you,  I  think;  or 
will  need  you.  But  if  you  utter  one  word  of  what 
you  think  you  know,  or  with  what  you  are  pleased 
to  surmise  I " 

He  purposely  left  the  sentence  incomplete.  The 
implied  threat  of  it  was  even  more  terrible  so.  But 
Betty  grasped  at  the  opportunity  to  go  to  Katherine, 
as  he  had  evidently  known  she  would  do.  Once 
more  she  half  started  from  the  chair,  but  he  thrust 
her  back  into  it  again. 

"Do  you  remember  the  little  old  red  school- 
house  a  mile  or  so  back  on  the  road,  that  we  passed 
on  the  way  out  here  to-day  ?  The  one  that  you  and 
Kitten  exclaimed  about,  and  admired  ?  I  know  you 
do  remember  it.  There  is  a  road  that  is  not  much 
used  a  little  way  beyond  it  that  leads  into  the  woods. 
Very  well.  Get  away  from  these  people  here  as 
soon  as  you  can.  Go  there.  You  can  find  the  way 


AN  INTERCEPTED   BLOW  249 

on  foot.  Follow  that  unused  road  until  you  get 
into  the  edge  of  the  woods.  Then  wait  there  for 
me.  I  will  take  you  to  Kitten,  if  you  do  that.  If 
you  do  not — it  will  be  the  worse  for  her;  that's 
all." 

Footsteps  resounded  in  the  corridor  outside  the 
door.  A  hand  grasped  the  knob  of  it,  and  it  was 
flung  open.  At  the  same  instant  Keese  seized  one 
of  Betty's  hands  and  began  to  chafe  and  slap  it; 
and  as  he  did  so  he  said  to  her  in  a  savage  under- 
tone: 

"Remember." 

Then  he  turned  his  head  as  the  door  was  opened, 
released  Betty's  hand,  and  stood  upright,  smiling. 
He  believed  he  had  succeeded  in  creating  the  im- 
pression that  Betty  had  needed  his  attention  and 
care. 

Tom  Clancy  came  swiftly  into  the  room.  He 
halted  midway  of  the  distance  between  Keese  and 
the  open  door,  and  his  eyes,  burning  fiercely,  bored 
into  the  Kentuckian's  for  an  instant,  then  traveled 
to  Betty,  and  then  returned  their  gaze  to  the  face  of 
Benton  Keese.  It  was  the  policy  of  Keese  not  to 
notice  Clancy's  only  too  evident  excitement,  and  he 
spoke  before  Tom  had  an  opportunity  to  do  so. 

"Betty  has  been  trying  to  faint,"  he  said  with  a 
lift  of  his  brows.  "I  think — perhaps — that  your 
services,  Clancy,  will  be  more  efficacious  than  her 
brother's." 

He  moved  forward  toward  the  open  door,  but 
Clancy  stepped  directly  in  front  of  him  and  barred 
the  way  out. 


250      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Wait!"  he  said. 

Keese  stopped,  lifted  his  brows  again  in  question- 
ing surprise,  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  waited. 

"Where  is  Katherine.  Where  is  she?"  Clancy 
demanded  hotly.  "You  know.  You  lie  like  hell  it- 
self if  you  dare  to  say  that  you  don't  know,  Keese. 
Tell  me  where  she  is,  or  by " 

"You  are  going  a  step  too  far,  Mr.  Thomas 
Clancy,"  Keese  interrupted.  "That  sort  of  talk 
doesn't  go  with  me." 

"Doesn't  go  with  you?"  Tom  took  a  stride 
nearer  to  the  man  he  had  grown  to  hate  so  cor- 
dially, and  his  Irish  temper  had  got  the  best  of  him. 
"Doesn't  go  with  you?"  he  repeated,  his  hands 
clenched  and  his  muscles  tense.  "Anything — every- 
thing would  'go'  with  the  kind  of  a  cad  that  you  are, 
you  thief!  You  forger!  You " 

Things  happened  swiftly  in  the  following  half 
second.  Keese,  enraged,  struck  out  with  his  fist 
just  as  another  figure  shot  through  the  open  door- 
way and  darted  forward  with  the  quickness  of  a 
shaft  of  light.  Benton  Keese's  wrist  was  seized  and 
twisted  sharply  and  he  was  sent  staggering  back- 
ward half  way  across  the  room,  and  at  the  same 
instant  Clancy  was  thrust  aside  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. Bing  Harvard  stood  between  them,  and  the 
tall,  spare  figure  of  Van  Cleve  loomed  at  the 
threshold  of  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

THE  TOUCH   OF  THE  NIGHT  WIND 

Instantly  Benton  Keese  was  his  suave,  complacent 
self  again,  although  his  right  wrist,  where  Bmg 
Harvard  had  seized  and  twisted  it,  tingled  with  the 
touch  of  the  powerful  hand  that  had  grasped  it. 
It  had  been  a  passing  touch  of  the  Night  Wind, 
for  Harvard  had  come  upon  the  scene  just  in  time 
to  overhear  the  last  four  words  that  Clancy  had 
used,  and  to  realize  the  necessity  for  instant  inter- 
ference. 

Now,  with  both  of  them  silent  and  motionless, 
he  looked  first  toward  Keese — who  shrugged  and 
half  smiled,  and  threw  out  his  hands,  palm  upward, 
in  a  gesture  of  deprecation — and  then  at  Tom,  who 
was  still  tense  and  scowling,  and  who,  in  his  heart, 
longed  to  renew  the  combat  that  had  been  so  force- 
fully halted  before  it  had  begun. 

Betty  had  started  to  her  feet,  and  she  stood 
uncertainly  in  front  of  her  chair,  as  if  she  wanted 
to  run  away,  yet  did  not  dare  to  move.  Her  eyes 
were,  wide,  her  lips  were  parted  ever  so  little,  her 
bosom  rose  and  fell  with  the  rapidity  of  her  breath- 
ing, and  her  eyes  that  for  an  instant  lingered  upon 
Harvard,  turned  inevitably  toward  Tom.  Her 
glance  seemed  to  draw  his  to  her.  Their  eyes  met. 
The  deep  scowl  left  his  face,  and  he  tried  to  smile; 

251 


THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

but  it  was  only  a  grimace  that  he  succeeded  in  sum- 
moning to  his  aid,  for  he  was  still  somber  and  angry 
and  disturbed — and  he  realized,  too,  that  without 
doubt  he  had  gone  a  step  too  far  in  his  tempestu- 
ous assault  of  words  upon  Betty's  brother.  All  of 
this  that  has  been  described  took  place  in  the  brief- 
est instant. 

But  Clancy's  eyes  having  traveled  to  Betty's, 
Harvard's  followed  them;  and  he  reached  out  the 
same  hand  that  had  just  twisted  Benton's  wrist  so 
savagely,  touched  her  fingers,  and  led  her  toward 
the  door. 

"Won't  you  find  Katherine  for  me,  and  say  that 
I  will  be  with  her  presently?"  he  said  gently;  and 
Betty  raised  her  eyes  to  his  wonderingly. 

Had  nobody  told  him?  That  was  her  silent 
thought. 

"I — I  don't  know — where  she  is,"  Betty  replied 
falteringly.  "She  had  not  returned  from  the  hunt 
when " 

"You  will  find  her  without  difficulty,  I  think," 
Bing  interrupted. 

Van  Cleve  stepped  aside  and  Betty  passed  from 
the  room.  Harvard  gestured,  and  Van  Cleve  closed 
the  door  after  her  in  response  to  it. 

"Please  stand  where  you  are,  Mr.  Van  Cleve, 
and  permit  nobody  to  enter,  for  the  present,"  Har- 
vard directed  in  a  quiet  tone.  Then  he  turned  and 
faced  the  two  men  who  remained  in  practically  the 
same  positions  that  they  had  assumed  when  the 
touch  of  the  Night  Wind  had  fallen  upon  them 
and  forced  them  apart. 


TOUCH  OF  THE  NIGHT  WIND       253 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "what  was  the  mean- 
ing of  that  scene  I  interrupted?  You,  Tom,  are  a 
member  of  the  club.  Mr.  Keese  is  my  guest.  Your 
attitude  and  conduct  toward  him,  under  the  circum- 
stances, seem  inexcusable." 

Clancy  was  silent  for  just  an  instant.  During  it, 
however,  he  realized  to  some  extent  the  very  little 
that  he  had  had  to  go  upon  in  charging  and  at- 
tacking Benton  Keese  as  he  had  done.  His  belief 
in  the  duplicity  of  the  man  was  intensified  rather 
than  lessened,  and  his  conviction  that  the  contin- 
ued absence  of  Katherine  was  in  some  manner 
due  to  Benton  Keese  was  as  strong  as  ever ;  but  he 
was  suddenly  aware  that  he  was  possessed  of  noth- 
ing tangible  in  support  of  either  premises.  But  the 
dark  scowl  swept  into  his  face  again.  His  eyes 
brooded  and  narrowed.  He  was  determined  that 
he  would  neither  withdraw  nor  retract  what  he  had 
said — what  he  knew  that  Bing  Harvard  had  heard 
him  say.  Fortunately  there  had  been  no  reference 
to  Katherine  in  those  last  fiery  words  that  Harvard 
had  Qverheard  as  he  approached. 

Clancy's  silence  before  replying  was  so  short  as 
to  be  barely  noticeable.  Then  he  said,  with  his 
characteristic  hot-headed  impetuosity: 

"I  don't  know  what  you  heard,  Bing,  and  I  don't 
care  a  damn,  either.  Whatever  you  did  hear  me 
say  to  that  man  over  there,  I  meant!  Every  word 
of  it !  And  more !" 

"Hush,  Tom!" 

"I  won't  hush — not  till  I  have  finished." 

"I  insist " 


"I  don't  care  a  hang  for  your  insistence,  Bing. 
Not  a  hang.  You've  got  me  cornered  because  you 
and  Van  Cleve  heard  what  you  did  hear,  and  now 
you've  all  got  to  listen  to  the  rest  of  it." 

Harvard  essayed  to  speak  again,  but  it  was  Keese 
who  interrupted  him  then. 

"Let  him  speak,  Mr.  Harvard,"  he  said,  with  the 
utmost  mildness,  'while  a  sneering  smile  played 
across  his  features  and  a  wicked  glint  came  into 
his  red-brown  eyes.  "Surely,  if  there  is  more  to  say 
in  connection  with  the  utterances  he  has  already 
made,  we  ought  all  to  hear  what  it  is.  Possibly 
there  is  an  explanation  which  may  be  distorted  into 
the  semblance  of  an  apology." 

"Apology!"  Tom  exploded.  Then  he  turned 
toward  Harvard  again.  "That  man  is  the  brother 
of  the  girl  I  love  with  all  the  heart  and  soul  there 
is  in  me,  Bing.  I  haven't  asked  Betty  to  marry 
me  yet,  because  I  haven't  dared — under  all  the  cir- 
cumstances that  I  know  exist.  But  I  love  her,  and 
I'm  going  to  ask  her,  and  she  is  going  to  say  'Yes' 
when  I  do.  So  you  can " 

"Is  this  to  be  the  story  of  a  romance?"  Keese 
interrupted  with  easy  insolence. 

Tom  shot  one  look  of  contemptuous  hatred 
toward  him,  then  continued  as  if  he  had  not  heard : 

"So  you  can  understand  what  the  accusation  I 
will  make  may  mean  to  me.  I  charge  that  man" 
— he  pointed  his  finger  at  Keese — "with  being  Hoi- 
brook  Chilton,  a  forger  and  a  thief.  He  is  the  man 
who  stole  Van  Cleve' s  money,  and  mine,  and  yours. 
He  is " 


"Stop— you!" 

It  was  Keese  who  spoke  the  two  words.  His  eyes 
were  aflame.  His  upper  lip  was  drawn  backward 
tightly  across  his  white  and  gleaming  teeth.  His 
handsome  face  was  distorted  into  the  features  of  a 
personified  fury.  His  elbows  were  partly  bent,  and 
his  long  and  tapering  fingers,  tensed  into  a  sem- 
blance of  claws,  twitched.  His  face  was  livid.  His 
body  was  bent  forward  as  if  he  had  half  performed 
the  act  of  leaping.  All  semblance  of  self-control 
had  gone  from  his  attitude.  He  had  been  trans- 
formed into  a  demon  by  the  words  that  Tom  Clancy 
had  spoken. 

And  all  of  this  in  an  instant  of  time  and  while 
he  shouted  out  the  two  words  like  bullets  at  his 
accuser.  He  acted,  too,  with  them;  acted  instantly. 
His  right  hand  flew  toward  his  hip  pocket,  and 
back  from  it  again,  gripping  the  weapon  it  had 
sought,  and  which  Kentuckians  are  proverbially 
supposed  to  carry — which,  doubtless,  he  had  carried 
with  him  constantly  in  anticipation  of  the  necessity 
for  its  sudden  need.  Keese  was  quick  in  the  use 
of  it,  too,  and  the  sharp  crack  of  it  split  the  air  and 
crashed  upon  the  momentary  silence  of  the  room  the 
instant  it  appeared. 

But  for  all  of  that  he  was  not  as  quick  as  Bing 
Harvard.  That  wonderful  swiftness  which  was  the 
Night  Wind's  chief est  asset  in  the  days  when  he 
was  forced  to  defend  himself  from  his  enemies 
saved  Tom  Clancy's  life  and  spared  the  brother  of 
the  girl  Tom  loved  from  the  crime  of  murder.  The 
bullet,  intended  for  Clancy's  heart,  imbedded  itself 


256      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

in  the  wall  somewhere  behind  him.  The  weapon  it- 
self crashed  against  the  ceiling  of  the  room  and  fell 
to  the.  floor.  Benton  Keese,  with  his  right  arm 
twisted  so  that  it  was  almost  torn  from  his  shoul- 
der, was  hurled  backward  with  a  force  that  might 
have  done  him  serious  injury  had  not  the  chair  that 
Betty  had  occupied  stood  in  the  way. 

Even  as  it  was  he  dived  headforemost  into  the 
upholstery  at  the  very  instant  that  Clancy,  beside 
himself  with  rage  that  his  life  had  been  attempted, 
leaped  forward  toward  his  assailant.  But  Harvard 
hurled  him  backward  also.  Then  he  stooped  and 
recovered  the  weapon  that  he  had  torn  from  the 
grasp  of  Keese,  and  dropped  it  into  his  pocket. 

Van  Cleve  rushed  forward  and  seized  upon 
Keese,  and  assisted  him  to  right  himself,  for  every- 
body there  could  hear  the  noises  of  running  feet 
approaching  the  door  of  that  room.  Then  it  was 
thrown  open.  Men  and  women  crowded  into  the 
room.  Frightened  questions  were  hurled  at  them. 
But  all  that  could  be  seen  was  the  fact  that  Bingham 
Harvard  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  with  an 
automatic  pistol  in  his  hand  which  he  was  examin- 
ing with  smiling  curiosity.  But  he  raised  his  eyes 
and  smiled  the  more  at  the  interruption,  ancj  said  : 

"It  went  off  by  accident.     Nobody  is  .hurt." 

Then  he  looked  from  face  to  face  amorjg  the 
group  around  him,  still  smiling. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

WHEN    A    MAN    LIES 

What  might  have  happened  had  there  been  no 
interruption  just  at  that  moment  cannot  be  known. 
The  situation  was  tense,  and  in  another  instant  the 
eyes  of  the  spectators  must  have  turned  from  Har- 
vard's face  toward  Clancy,  and  toward  Keese — 
and  it  would  have  been  easy  enough  to  have  read 
what  was  depicted  upon  the  features  of  both  men. 

But  a  club  attendant  rushed  excitedly  into  the 
room,  and  he  was  calling  Harvard's  name  with  all 
the  lung  power  he  possessed ;  and  he  discovered  the 
central  figure  of  the  group,  seized  him  by  the  arm, 
and  tried  to  drag  him  away  while  he  shouted. 

"Mrs.  Harvard  has  been  hurt!  Mrs.  Harvard 
has  been  hurt;  Mrs.  Har " 

Bing  grasped  him  and  shook  him  savagely. 

"Where  is  she  ?  Take  me  to  her !"  he  demanded, 
and  started  for  the  door,  the  others  following  ex- 
citedly after. 

Even  Tom  forgot  his  rage  at  Keese,  and  darted 
forward  until  he  could  thrust  others  aside  and  get 
close  beside  his  friend.  For  the  moment  Clancy 
thought  that  Katherine  had  been  found,  dead  or  ter- 
ribly injured,  and  that  he  had  been  mistaken  in 
supposing  that  Keese  had  anything  to  do  with  her 
continued  absence. 

Benton  Keese  himself  sauntered  after  the  others, 
257 


258      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

and  was  the  last  one  to  go  from  the  room — for  he 
alone  of  all  who  were  present  knew  that  Kather- 
ine's  dead  or  maimed  body  had  not  been  discovered, 
that  she  was  in  fact,  unharmed,  and  that  nothing 
more  serious  than  a  limping  horse,  a  crushed  rid- 
ing-hat, a  torn  and  soiled  pair  of  gauntlets,  and  a 
broken  hunting-crop  had  been  found.  Also  he 
realized  that  he  was  "up  against  it," — to  make  use 
of  an  expression  that  is  more  expressive  than  ele- 
gant. True,  the  episode  of  the  pistol  had  passed. 
No  harm  would  grow  out  of  that. 

Bingham  Harvard's  ready  wit  had  relieved  the 
strain,  had  reassured  the  alarmed  and  excited  club- 
members  and  their  guests  by  offering  a  very  nat- 
ural explanation  in  a  few  words,  and  already  in 
the  excitement  that  followed  upon  the  announce- 
ment of  the  club  servant,  the  thing  was  forgotten. 
But  Clancy  would  not  soon  forget  it;  Van  Cleve 
would  remember  it;  Harvard,  he  knew,  would  have 
something  to  say  about  it  later. 

Oddly  enough,  it  was  not  Harvard,  nor  was  it 
Clancy,  whom  Keese  most  dreaded  just  then.  It 
was  Anderson  Van  Cleve.  For  he  knew  Anderson 
Van  Cleve  as  no  other  man  in  the  United  States 
knew  the  man;  knew  him  for  a  quiet,  determined, 
implacable,  physically  fearless  character  who  had 
faced  all  kinds  of  conditions  and  dangers  in  the 
States  of  Mexico,  with  never  a  flinching,  and  al- 
ways to  the  utter  rout  of  the  "other  fellow."  He 
mentally  thanked  his  stars  for  that  timely  interrup- 
tion, after  the  pistol  had  been  taken  from  him  and 
he  was  rendered  defenseless.  There  was  no  know- 
ing what  might  have  happened  if  it  had  not  been  for 


WHEN   A    MAN    LIES  259 

that;  he  shuddered  involuntarily  when  he  thought 
of  the  amazing  strength  of  Katherine's  husband. 

"So,  those  stories  that  I  was  told  about  him  were 
true,"  was  his  mental  comment.  "He  does  possess 
that  phenomenal  strength  of  muscle.  He  is  the 
giant  who  broke  bones  like  pipe-stems,  and  threw 
grown  men  about  like  straws  in  a  gale  of  wind." 

Keese  was  several  yards  behind  the  hindmost  of 
those  who  had  rushed  from  the  room  with  Harvard 
and  the  servant,  and  he  lingered  still  farther  be- 
hind; for  he  knew  that  he  had  a  condition  to  face 
in  the  charge  that  Clancy  had  made.  He  had  known 
last  Monday  night  that  both  Harvard  and  Van 
Cleve  would  be  fruitful  soil  for  the  planting  of  the 
seed  of  suspicion.  Now  it  was  planted,  and  with 
vehemence,  and  by  a  hand  which  would  compel 
those  two  men  to  sit  up  and  take  notice.  And  the 
problem  that  Benton  Keese  had  to  solve  during  the 
next  half-hour  or  so — and  certainly  before  the  time 
had  arrived  for  his  return  to  the  city — was  whether 
he  should  disappear  at  once  and  entirely  or  not 
do  so. 

Then  the  memory  of  his  sister  Betty  returned  to 
him.  Through  her  statement — to  which  credence 
would  unquestionably  be  given  if  she  would  make 
one — existed  his  only  immediate  danger.  And  she 
(he  remembered  that  he  had  half  confessed  to  her) 
would  take  Harvard  aside  and  reveal  all  she  knew, 
he  believed.  She  would  do  it  for  the  purpose  of 
convincing  Harvard  that  Katherine  was  not  lying 
dead  or  dying  somewhere  along  the  route  of  the 
chase,  if  for  no  other  reason.  And  then,  after 
that — what  ? 


260      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

Keese  halted  in  the  wide  doorway  of  the  main 
entrance.  Everybody  else  had  crowded  forward 
toward  a  general  center  of  things,  and  they  were 
"milling"  like  so  many  cattle.  He  looked  over  the 
excited  heads  and  waving  arms,  searching  for  Betty 
with  a  gaze  that  skipped  nobody,  but  close  as  his 
search  for  her  was  he  did  not  see  her.  And  then 
he  remembered  what  he  had  told  her  about  the  road 
beyond  the  old  red  schoolhouse;  and  he  wondered 
if  she  had  gone  there,  believing  that  he  would  keep 
his  promise  and  follow  her  as  soon  as  he  could  ex- 
tricate himself  from  the  predicament  in  which  she 
had  left  him. 

Another  swift  glance  around  convinced  him  that 
Betty  was  nowhere  in  sight.  He  knew  that  she 
would  have  been  among  the  first  to  seek  the  center 
of  the  present  excitement  had  she  been  anywhere 
near.  Therefore  he  could  draw  only  one  conclu- 
sion. Betty  had  gone  to  the  place  of  meeting  and 
was  waiting  there  for  him.  He  hurried  down  the 
steps  then  and  became  one  of  the  eager  throng  that 
was  gathered  around  the  horse  that  Katherine  had 
rode  that  day. 

But  already  eager  searchers  were  hurrying 
toward  the  stables.  Already  some  of  the  people 
had  sprung  into  automobiles  and  started  away. 
Orders  were  shouted  for  hurried  saddling;  horses 
were  hitched  to  carriages,  dogcarts,  drays.  Fifty 
or  more  persons  started  away  on  foot  toward  the 
course  that  the  hunt  had  taken  at  the  start. 

Then  Keese  heard  his  own  name  called,  and  he 
saw  the  three  men  he  would  have  cared  most  to 
avoid  at  that  moment  approaching  him — Clancy, 


WHEN  A    MAN   LIES  261 

Van  Cleve,  and  Harvard.  He  went  forward  to 
meet  them,  concern  of  the  deepest  sort  depicted 
upon  his  features. 

"Will  you  take  us  to  the  spot  where  you  parted 
with  Mrs.  Harvard?"  Bingham  asked  him.  He 
spoke  calmly,  although  his  voice  was  deep  with  the 
anxiety  he  was  suffering. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied  as  calmly.  "I  will  gladly 
guide  you  there — and  Mr.  Van  Cleve,  also.  But — • 
not  your  companion — even  under  the  present  cir- 
cumstances." 

Tom's  lips  parted  to  utter  reply,  and  it  would 
have  been  a  hot  one,  judging  from  the  expression 
of  his  face;  but  Harvard  put  out  a  hand,  grasped 
him  by  the  arm,  and  stopped  him. 

"Mr.  Clancy  will  accompany  us,  Mr.  Keese,"  he 
said,  coldly,  "and  I  will  venture  to  ask  you  again  to 
show  us  the  way  and  the  place." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  Keese  replied,  and  bowed. 

"The  horses  will  be  brought  here  to  us  in  a  mo- 
ment. I  have  already  ordered  them,"  Harvard  said. 

"Where  is  your  sister?"  Van  Cleve  asked.  "We 
would  like  to  have  her  with  us,  also." 

"I  haven't  an  idea.  I  have  not  seen  her  since 
she  left  the  room  where  we  were  together,"  Keese 
answered.  Then,  as  if  an  afterthought,  he  added : 

"She  was  very  much  concerned  about  the  non- 
appearance  of  Mrs.  Harvard,  -and  was  faint  when  I 
took  her  into  that  room.  I  was  chafing  her  hands 
and  endeavoring  to  reassure  her  about  her  friend 
when  we  were  interrupted.  It  is  possible  that  when 
she  came  outside  again  and  did  not  find  Mrs.  Har- 
vard she  may  have  started  out  in  search  of  her." 


THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Van  Cleve  nodded  in  acceptance  of  that  theory. 
So  did  Harvard.  Clancy  stood  with  his  back  turned 
to  them,  tapping  his  boot  with  his  crop,  and  made 
no  comment  of  any  sort. 

In  a  moment  more  they  were  all  mounted  and 
riding  swiftly  toward  the  wood- fringed  ravine. 
Clancy  clung  to  the  rear.  Harvard,  who  was  thor- 
oughly familiar  with  the  locality,  led.  Van  Cleve 
rode  close  beside  Benton  Keese,  but  never  once 
turned  his  head,  nor  spoke  a  word.  But  at  the 
same  time  Holbrook  Chilton  could  feel  the  iron 
presence  of  the  man,  and  was  suddenly  convinced 
that  the  Mexican  mine-owner  and  contractor  no 
longer  doubted  his  double  identity.  But  he  smiled 
inwardly,  nevertheless,  being  convinced  also  that 
neither  Van  Cleve  nor  any  other  person  would 
ever  be  able  now  to  prove  the  duplicity  of  his  ego. 
And  so  they  came  to  the  top  of  the  wood  road 
into  the  ravine  and  stopped. 

"My  girth  broke  when  I  was  there,"  Keese  said, 
pointing,  and  addressing  the  remark  to  Harvard. 
"Mrs.  Harvard  was  just  at  the  top  of  that  steep 
rise,  yonder,"  and  he  pointed  again.  "I  dismounted 
and  called  out  to  her  to  go  on,  and " 

"You  lie !"  Clancy  shouted  at  him.  "I  turned  and 
looked  back  from  far  above  here,  at  a  point  where 
one  can  get  a  glimpse  of  the  wood  road,  near  the 
bottom  of  it;  and  Betty  did  the  same.  And  we 
both  saw  you,  and  Katherine,  too,  when  you  rode 
into  the  ravine  together.  So  I  tell  you  again, 
Keese,  you  lie.  You  lie  like  hell!" 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

WHEN   KEESE  PUT  UP  A  BLUFF 

Bentcn  Keese  stiffened  in  the  saddle,  bending 
slightly  forward  as  with  a  quick  motion  of  his  left 
arm  he  threw  one  side  of  the  rein  against  the  horse's 
neck.  Then,  remembering  that  saddle-horses  are 
not  turned  in  that  manner  in  the  East,  he  jerked 
the  animal  around  with  the  other  side  of  the  rein. 

At  the  same  instant  he  reached  for  the  empty 
pocket  where  he  had  carried  that  automatic  pistol. 
It  was  not  there,  of  course.  He  remembered  the 
fact  before  his  hand  had  traveled  half  the  distance 
to  it ;  but  even  so,  he  had  recalled  the  fact  too  late, 
for  all  three  of  the  men  had  seen  the  motion  and 
understood  its  import — and  at  least  one  of  them, 
thinking  that  Keese  might  be  possessed  of  a  sec- 
ond weapon,  had  acted. 

Van  Cleve  was  that  man.  He  whipped  out  one 
of  his  own  pistols  on  the  instant,  and  before  Keese 
had  recovered  from  the  useless  gesture — indeed,  be- 
fore he  could  have  drawn — and  held  it  grimly  and 
steadily,  with  the  muzzle  of  it  pointed  straight  at 
the  heart  of  Benton  Keese.  And  his  eyes  were  as 
cold  as  icicles  and  as  sharp  as  pin-points  in  their 
intensity.  But  he  said  quietly: 

"Put  up  your  hands,  Chilton.  I  know  you  now. 
That  move  of  yours  with  the  bridle-rein  betrayed 
you.  Just  imagine  that  we  are  back  there  in  Mexico 
263 


together  and  that  I  have  got  the  drop  on  you.  You 
know  me." 

"Mr.  Van  Cleve "  Harvard  began;  but  the 

older  man  interrupted  him. 

"Wait,  Harvard,"  he  said  sharply.  "Keep  quiet 
and  let  me  handle  things  for  a  moment." 

But  Keese  did  not  raise  his  hands,  or  attempt  to 
do  so.  Instead,  he  let  them  drop  to  the  saddle  in 
front  of  him  and  sat  very  still  while  a  slow  smile 
gathered  in  his  eyes  and  crept  down  across  his  fea- 
tures, relaxing  them  into  the  cool  self-possessed, 
fearless  individual  that  he  really  was.  For,  to  the 
credit  of  Benton  Keese,  be  it  said  that  he  was  al- 
ways at  his  best  when  danger  threatened  the  most. 

All  this  happened  while  Van  Cleve  was  using  his 
gun,  while  Harvard  started  to  exclaim  a  protest  and 
Van  Cleve  interrupted  him.  And  Keese  recovered 
his  reins  again  as  Van  Cleve  ended  that  last  remark 
to  Harvard.  He  lifted  them,  and  at  the  same  time 
touched  his  horse's  sides  with  his  heels.  The  ani- 
mal started  forward.  Keese  raised  his  cap,  and 
even  as  Van  Cleve  ceased  speaking  he  said : 

"I  bid  you  good  day,  gentlemen." 

"Stop!"  Van  Cleve  called  out  to  him;  but  Keese 
rode  onward  slowly,  nor  offered  to  turn  his  head. 
"Stop  or  I'll  shoot,  so  help  me " 

"Shoot  and  be  damned!"  Keese  called  back, 
amusement  rather  than  fear  or  anger  in  his  tone; 
and  he  continued  on  his  way,  but  without  attempt- 
ing to  hasten  the  speed  of  his  horse. 

"By  heaven,  but  I  wish  we  were  in  Mexico,"  Van 
Cleve  ground  out  between  his  teeth  savagely,  and 


WHEN  KEESE  PUT  UP  A  BLUFF     265 

restored  the  weapon  to  his  pocket.  "Go  after  him, 
Harvard.  Bring  him  back  here.  He's  Chilton  all 
right.  There  isn't  any  doubt  of  that." 

Harvard  started  his  horse  forward. 

"Keese!"  he  called,  as  he  advanced;  and  Keese 
reined  in  and  waited.  But  he  did  not  offer  to  turn. 
Harvard  rode  up  beyond  him  and  faced  about, 
blocking  his  way. 

"Will  you  go  back  there  with  me?"  he  asked 
quietly. 

"No,  Mr.  Harvard." 

"You  know  that  I  can  take  you  back,  don't  you, 
if  I  attempt  it?" 

"I  don't  think  you  will  make  the  attempt — so  I 
need  not  reply  to  the  question.  I  am,  unfortunately, 
your  guest  here  to-day.  You  have  permitted  me 
to  be  grossly  insulted  in  your  presence,  twice.  It 
would  be  a  fitting  climax  to  your  entertainment  of 
my  sister  and  me,  if  you  should,  personally,  add 
to  these  outrages." 

Harvard  winced,  for  there  was  truth  in  what  was 
said. 

"Keese?"  Bingham  began  again. 

"Well,  sir?" 

"Mr.  Van  Cleve  charges  that  you  are,  or  have 
been,  the  Chilton  whom  we  knew.  Are  you — were 
you  that  man?" 

"I  will  overlook  the  implied  insult  of  that  ques- 
tion, under  the  circumstances,  and  answer  it.  Most 
certainly  I  was  not  and  am  not,  and  could  not  be, 
that  person." 

"You  claimed  to  have  known  him." 


266      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"I  did  know  him — in  precisely  the  way  I  have 
explained." 

"Why  do  you  go  about  armed,  as  you  were  to- 
day?" 

"Doubtless  for  the  same  reason  that  Van  Cleve 
does  so;  because  I  have  always  been  accustomed 
to  doing  so.  And  that  reminds  me:  I  will  thank 
you  to  return  my  property." 

Harvard  reached  into  a  pocket,  found  the  pistol, 
and  returned  it.  Keese  accepted  it  with  a  slight 
nod  of  thanks. 

"It  is  empty,"  Harvard  told  him. 

Keese  nodded  again. 

"Is  it  true  that  Clancy  saw  you  and  my  wife  ride 
into  the  ravine  side  by  side?"  Harvard  asked  then. 

"No.  It  could  not  have  been  true,  since  we  did 
not  do  so." 

"But  Clancy  says  that  he  and  your  sister  both 
saw  you  do  it." 

"My  sister,  unfortunately,  is  not  here  to  support 
my  statement.  And,  although  Clancy  appears  for 
some  unknown  reason  to  be  very  deeply  prejudiced 
against  me,  I  will  do  him  the  justice  to  suppose 
that  he  is  honestly  mistaken.  There  were  many 
riders  out  to-day.  It  is  possible  that  others  may 
have  descended  into  the  ravine  by  that  road  after 
I  had  done  so." 

Harvard  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  without 
another  word  he  started  his  horse  forward  and  re- 
joined his  two  friends. 

Keese  rode  away  slowly  in  the  opposite  direction 
without  turning  his  head;  but  if  any  of  them  could 


WHEN  KEESE  PUT  UP  A  BLUFF     267 

have  peered  into  his  face  just  then,  they  would  have 
seen  a  lurking  smile  hovering  around  the  corners  of 
his  mouth. 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  him  back  with  you, 
Bing?"  Clancy  demanded  angrily. 

But  Harvard  did  not  reply.  He  rode  onward 
up  the  brow  of  the  hill  beside  the  ravine,  toward 
the  place  that  had  been  described  to  him  as  the 
one  where  Katherine's  hat  and  crop  and  gauntlets 
had  been  found,  and  his  friends  followed  after. 
Harvard  could  not  believe  that  Katherine  had  sus- 
tained more  than  a  severe  fall  which  had  tempo- 
rarily disabled  her.  A  sprained  ankle,  perhaps,  so 
that  she  could  not  walk. 

And  yet — he  kept  asking  himself  why  the  search- 
ers had  found  no  trace  of  her  near  the  place  where 
her  things  were  discovered.  There  was  no  mistak- 
ing the  spot  where  Katherine's  horse  had  plunged 
over  the  bank  into  the  ravine  when  Keese  struck  it 
Math  the  crop;  the  disturbed  footing,  the  crushed 
and  broken  twigs  and  shoots  of  trees  and  the  un- 
mistakable evidences  of  the  animal's  having  rolled 
over  and  over,  farther  down,  were  all  plainly  to  be 
seen. 

All  three  men  followed  down  the  course  of  the 
hunter's  leap  and  fall — and  many  other  searchers 
were  in  the  immediate  locality,  seeking,  calling 
aloud,  doing  everything  that  wit  could  suggest  to 
explain  the  mystery  of  Mrs.  Harvard's  strange 
disappearance  immediately  after  the  accident.  And 
at  last,  when  it  became  evident  that  further  search 
in  that  locality  was  worse  than  useless,  they  ga,th- 


268      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

ered  into  a  group,  a  full  score  or  more  of  them, 
and  made  and  listened  to  suggestion  after  sug- 
gestion and  to  every  possible  theory  that  could  be 
offered  as  a  solution  to  the  problem. 

The  consensus  of  opinion  was,  at  last,  that  she 
must  have  been  seen  to  take  the  plunge  over  the 
bank  and  fall  by  a  stranger  who  happened  to  be 
wandering  that  way  or  by  one  or  more  outsiders 
who  had  joined  in  the  hunt  without  invitation — a 
circumstance  that  is  almost  sure  to  happen  at  a  "big 
day"  of  the  Forestbrooks.  Such  person  or  persons 
would  have  gone  to  her  aid;  would  have  taken  her 
direct  to  the  nearest  point  of  assistance  and  rem- 
edies— and  would,  by  then,  have  found  means  to 
communicate  with  the  club. 

So  with  shouts  of  reassurance  from  one  to  an- 
other the  search  was  abandoned  and  everybody  vied 
with  everybody  else  in  a  race  back  to  the  clubhouse. 
Night  was  falling,  too,  and  soon  it  would  be  quite 
dark  there  in  the  woods. 

Only  Torn  Clancy  among  them  all  was  not  con- 
vinced that  news  of  Katherine  would  be  forthcom- 
ing at  the  clubhouse  by  then.  For  he  had  not 
changed  that  opinion  that  had  instantly  formed 
in  his  mind  with  the  first  news  of  her  absence.  But 
he  kept  his  silence  while  they  rode  rapidly  back, 
although  he  clung  close  to  Bing  Harvard;  and  so 
did  Van  Cleve,  at  the  opposite  side  of  him.  But 
Tom  kept  repeating  to  himself : 

"Keese  has  done  this  thing,  and  when  Bing  finds 
it  out,  he'll  kill  him!  Or,  /  will!" 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

THE   MASK   IS  TORN  AWAY 

There  was  no  news  of  Katherine  at  the  club- 
house. With  the  positive  information  that  nothing 
had  been  heard  from  her  or  concerning  her,  Har- 
vard, who  had  not  yet  dismounted,  sat  very  still 
indeed  in  his  saddle,  his  features  hardened  into  a 
marble-like  mask  of  self-repression  and  self-re- 
straint. For  he  knew  that  he  must  think ;  and  think 
quickly  and  to  the  point. 

And  as  if  by  common  consent  those  who  were 
gathered  near  him  were  also  motionless  and  silent. 
The  interval  thus  passed  might  have  been  counted 
in  seconds,  or  minutes ;  nobody  knew  as  to  that ;  but 
an  interruption  came  when  a  club  servant  edged 
his  way  among  them  and  gave  a  sealed  envelope  into 
Harvard's  hand.  Then  came  an  audible  sigh  of  re- 
lief from  the  waiting  friends,  for  the  instant 
thought  was  that  here,  at  last,  was  the  blessed  news 
— for  information  of  any  character  would  have  been 
blessed  in  some  degree  just  then. 

Harvard  seized  upon  the  envelope  and  tore  it 
open  without  so  much  as  a  glance  at  the  handwrit- 
ing upon  it.  His  friends  who  were  gathered  around 
him,  eagerly  waiting  to  be  told  what  the  message 
might  contain,  saw  his  face  harden  still  more, 
saw  his  lips  set  in  a  straight  line  and  remain  so  for 
269 


270      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

a  moment  before  he  opened  them  to  speak,  saw  him 
cast  a  swift  glance  toward  Van  Cleve,  and  then 
toward  Clancy.  Then,  as  if  decided  what  to  do, 
he  raised  the  brief  note  again  and  read  aloud  from 
it  so  that  all  could  hear. 

"DEAR  MR.  HARVARD: 

"You  will,  under  the  circumstances,  find  excuses 
for  my  sister  and  me  in  making  our  departure  from 
the  Forestbrook  clubhouse  so  abruptly.  Circum- 
stances which  I  will  not  inflict  upon  you  at  this 
time  have  arisen  which  render  it  imperative  for  both 
of  us  to  go  away  at  once  and  without  waiting  to 
make  our  adieus. 

"We  both  feel  assured  that  Mrs.  Harvard  will 
have  returned  before  you  receive  this  note  and  that 
whatever  accident  she  may  have  met  with  will  not 
have  been  a  serious  one,  else  some  trace  of  her 
would  undoubtedly  have  been  discovered  at  the 
point  where  it  occurred. 

"Believing  this,  as  we  both  do,  we  feel  less  reluc- 
tance in  going;  and  we  desire  to  extend  our  mutual 
sense  of  appreciation  for  the  graceful  courtesies 
that  have  been  extended  to  us  by  you  and  your 
friends. 

"Sincerely  yours, 

"BENTON  KEESE." 

A  dead  silence  obtained  after  the  reading  of  the 
note.  It  was  broken,  presently,  by  Harvard,  him- 
self, who  said: 

"I  read  the  message  of  Mr.  Keese  aloud  to  you 


THE  MASK  IS  TORN  AWAY          271 

because  I  realized  that  you  like  myself,  supposed 
it  to  come  from  Mrs.  Harvard,  or  to  concern  her. 
Since  it  explains  itself,  I  need  offer  no  further 
comment." 

"It's  a  rotten  thing  for  him  to  do — to  leave  you 
like  this,  at  this  time,"  somebody  remarked  in  a 
tone  that  was  distinctly  audible  to  everyone;  and 
there  was  a  general  murmur  of  approval  of  the 
sentiment  from  all  sides. 

But  Harvard  turned  away  from  it  all,  and  still 
in  the  saddle,  pulled  his  mount  away  from  the  oth- 
ers. He  knew  that  they  were  already  organizing 
searching  parties  for  further  effort ;  and — he  wanted 
to  think  it  out,  alone.  But  Tom  Clancy,  who  had 
dismounted,  followed  him. 

"Bing,"  he  said,  in  a  guarded  undertone,  when 
they  were  at  a  safe  distance — and  resting  one  of 
his  hands  reassuringly  upon  his  friend's  knee — 
"I've  got  something  hateful  to  say  to  you;  but  it 
has  got  to  be  said.  Will  you  listen?  And  will  you 
try  to  be  as  patient  with  me  as  possible?" 

"What  is  it,  Tom?" 

"First,  upon  my  soul  I  do  not  believe  that  Kath- 
erine  has  been  hurt  at  all.  I  do  not  believe  that 
she  has  met  with  an  accident — of  the  kind  we  have 
feared.  What  I  do  believe — and  this  is  the  hateful 
thing  I  had  to  say — what  I  do  honestly  believe  is 
that  Benton  Keese,  alias  Holbrook  Chilton,  is  re- 
sponsible for  her  mysterious  disappearance,  and 
that  if  we  could  find  him  and  make  him  talk,  he 
could  tell  us  where  to  find  her  right  now." 

"Good  God,  man,  do  you  realize  what  you  are 


272      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

saying?"  Harvard  seemed  to  steady  himself  with 
an  effort,  but  his  fingers  twitched  as  he  bent  for- 
ward, nearer  to  Tom. 

"Yes,  Bing,  I  do  realize  it.    And  I  mean  it,  too." 

"You  are !"  Harvard  seemed  to  choke,  and 

he  stopped.  "You  are  suggesting !"  He  came 

to  a  stop  again,  unable  to  proceed.  And  Clancy 
understood;  and  gasped,  blunderingly: 

"Great  heavens,  Bing!  Do  you  suppose  I  meant 
to  imply  for  a  moment  that  such  a  thing  could  have 
happened  with  her  connivance?  Good  Lord!  I 
mean  that  the  scoundrel  has  stolen  her  away.  I 
mean  that  he  sent  her  horse  over  the  bluff  long  after 
she  was  out  of  the  saddle.  I  mean  that  he  tore 
the  gloves,  broke  the  crop,  crushed  her  hat, 
and " 

"Wait,  Tom.  Wait.  And  forgive  me.  I — I 
came  near  to  choking  you,  just  now.  Wait.  No; 
don't  wait.  Tell  me  exactly  what  you  mean.  I'll 
listen.  I  will  listen  quietly.  I  won't  interrupt  you. 
I'll  hear  all  of  it.  I  want  to  hear  all  of  it.  I  must 
hear " 

"Here  is  Van  Cleve,  Bing,  coming  this  way." 

"Never  mind.  Say  it  all,  in  his  presence.  Go  on. 
Don't  wait.  He  will  understand." 

"You  more  than  half  believe  what  I  have  said, 
now;  don't  you?" 

"Go  on,  I  say.  Tell  me  all  of  it.  Tell  me  every- 
thing that  is  on  your  mind.  Your  conduct  has  been 
incomprehensible  since  I  came  down  this  afternoon. 
Perhaps  this  will  explain  it." 

"It  will  explain  it,  Bing." 


THE  MASK  IS  TORN  AWAY          273 

"Well?    Well?    Well?" 

"We  know — none  of  we  three  doubt  it  now! — 
that  Keese  is  Chilton.  Van  Cleve  knows  it.  You 
know  it.  I  know  it. 

"Van  Cleve  does  not  know  that  Keese  is  the  man 
whom  Katherine  ran  away  from  when  she  came 
to  New  York,  before  you  ever  saw  her." 

"Yes  I  do.  Bingham  told  me,"  Van  Cleve  in- 
terpolated. 

"Well,  then,  here  is  something  that  neither  of 
you  do  know :  Katherine  was  afraid  of  him.  She 
feared  him,  mightily.  Not  because  of  what  he 
might  do  or  say,  or  attempt  to  do  or  say,  to  her, 
but  because  of  what  she  might,  in  an  extreme  mo- 
ment, do  to  him.  She  hated  him.  He  aroused  in 
her  a  primitive  emotion  that  made  her  want  to  kill. 
She  told  me  so  herself." 

"Katherine  told  you  that,  Tom?" 

"Yes." 

"When?" 

"Last  Monday,  when  we  came  away  from  the 
bank  together,  after  the  conference." 

"Go  on." 

"She  regretted  that  she  had  received  Betty  into 
her  home  because  it  gave  Betty's  brother  the  open 
sesame  of  the  house.  She  believed  that  he  had  sent 
for  Betty  to  come  here  for  that  very  purpose.  To- 
day, while  Betty  and  I  rode  together  during  the 
chase,  she  herself  admitted  as  much  to  me.  Even 
before  we  started  Betty  begged  me  to  stick  close 
to  Katherine  and  not  to  let  Ben,  as  she  calls  him, 
get  her  away  alone  with  him." 


274      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"But — great  heavens,  Tom ! — abduction  ?  In  this 
day  and  age?" 

"Bing" — Tom  put  both  hands  upon  Harvard's 
knee  as  he  bent  nearer  the  better  to  emphasize  what 
he  had  to  say — "Benton  Keese  is  more  an  animal 
than  a  man.  He  would  not  hesitate  to  strike,  or  to 
use  any  kind  of  force,  or  to  choke,  and  rend,  and 
tear.  If  his  wits  did  not  serve  his  ends,  he  used 
force.  If  he  could  not  lead  her  blindly  into  a  trap 
that  he  had  set  for  her,  he  would  not  hesitate  to 
throw  her  into  it. 

"He  is  an  animal!  a  beast!  a  monster  in  the 
shape  and  guise  of  a  man!" 

Harvard's  teeth  and  lips  were  tightly  compressed. 
His  muscles  were  flexed  and  tense.  His  chest 
heaved  with  the  intake  and  expulsion  of  deep  and 
mighty  breaths.  But  he  controlled  himself  and 
made  no  sound. 

"Where  is  Miss  Betty?  Why  is  she  not  here 
with  us,  now?"  Van  Cleve  asked. 

"God  only  knows !"  Tom  exploded.  "She  was  not 
here  when  we  started  out  to  hunt  for  Katherine. 
She  was  gone,  even  then — searching  for  Katherine, 
as  I  supposed,  then." 

"But,  now?    What  do  you  think  about  it  now?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think.  I  burst  in  upon  them 
suddenly  when  she  was  with  her  brother  in  that  lit- 
tle parlor.  I  was  wild  with  anger,  for  even  then  I 
believed  that  he  was  responsible  for  Katherine's 
absence.  He  pretended  to  be  chafing  Betty's  hands, 
but  it  was  a  pretense.  I  knew  it  was,  at  the  time. 
Betty  looked  no  more  like  fainting  than  I  did — and 


THE  MASK  IS  TORN  AWAY          275 

she  isn't  of  the  sort  that  faints  away.  I  had  just 
charged  Keese  with  knowing  where  Katherine  was 
when  you  two  appeared.  I  had  charged  him  with 
being  Holbrook  Chilton  and  a  thief  and  a  forger, 
when  you  came.  You  heard  only  the  last  words  of 
it.  But  I'll  tell  you  something  that  you  did  not  see, 
and  had  no  time  to  notice. 

"This :  I  know — /  know — from  Betty's  attitude 
and  manner  when  I  charged  that  cur  with  being 
responsible  for  Katherine's  absence,  that  she  had 
been  making  that  same  charge  against  him,  her- 
self/' 

"Then,  where  is  she?  Why  isn't  she  here?" 
Bingham  Harvard  demanded,  white  now,  to  the 
lips. 

"I  don't  know,  Bing.  I  wish  I  did.  You  sent 
her  from  the  room,  if  you'll  remember.  You  asked 
her  to  find  Katherine  for  you.  I  can  only  sur- 
mise  " 

"Surmise  what?" 

"That  just  before  I  interrupted  them — just  after 
Betty  had  made  the  same  charge  that  I  made  when 
I  burst  into  the  room — he  had  worked  his  devilish 
craft  upon  her,  somehow.  He  might  even  have  par- 
tially admitted  that  he  did  know  where  Katherine 
was.  He  might  even  have  offered  to  take  Betty  to 
her.  It  would  be  like  his  cunning  craft,  his  dev- 
ilish subtleness." 

"And  then ?" 

"I  have  made  inquiries.  I  can  find  no  one  who 
saw  Betty  after  she  came  from  that  room.  We 
remained  there  for  some  time  afterward.  She  must 


276      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

have  gone  away  at  once.     Therefore  her  brother 
had  said  something  to  her  that  sent  her  away." 

"Would  she  have  gone  like  that?"  Van  Cleve 
asked. 

"She  would  have  gone  anywhere  in  the  hope  of 
finding  Katherine.  She  would  have  gone  nowhere 
just  then  without  such  a  hope.  And  she  did  go." 

"Enough !"  Harvard  put  in  sharply. 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  and  his  two  friends 
waited  in  suspense  for  his  next  remark. 

"You  have  convinced  me,  Tom,"  he  said  in  a 
dead,  expressionless  voice,  presently.  "I  am  con- 
vinced. I  think  now  that  I  have  been  convinced 
from  the  start — only  I  would  not  have  it  so.  I 
have  suspected  Keese's  motives  in  my  house  since 
the  first  moment  I  saw  him  there — only  I  would 
not  admit  to  myself  that  I  did  suspect.  I  have 
coupled  him  with  Chilton  from  the  first — only  I 
would  not  let  myself  do  it.  Now — we  must  find 
him.  And  when  he  is  found  I  will " 

Van  Cleve  interrupted  in  his  quiet  tone. 

"I  know  the  man  from  the  ground  up,"  he  said. 
"I  do  not  think  that  he  will  be  difficult  to  find." 

"Why?"  Harvard  asked. 

"He  will  show  himself.  It  is  his  way.  The 
man  is  absolutely  fearless.  If  he  possesses  an 
abundant  passion,  it  is  the  love  of  danger.  He  will 
not  run  away — yet.  He  will  go  to  his  hotel  and 
wait,  unless " 

"Unless  what?"  Clancy  demanded  when  Van 
Cleve  hesitated. 

Van  Cleve  did  not  reply. 


THE  MASK  IS  TORN  AWAY          277 

"You  mean,"  Harvard  said  evenly,  "unless  his 
plans  were  so  well  prepared  that  he  has  been  able 
to  get  away  already,  and  to  take  my  wife  with  him. 
Is  that  what  you  mean,  Van  Cleve?" 

"Yes." 

"Get  the  car,  Tom.  We  will  go  back  to  the  city 
now.  Try  to  make  all  these  people  think  that  we 
are  starting  out  to  continue  the  search.  Later,  per- 
haps it  will  be  as  well — if  one  of  you  should  tele- 
phone here  to  the  club — that  Katherine  has  been 
found — not  badly  injured — and  taken  home — by 
somebody.  It  will  avoid  unpleasant  complexities 
and  comment." 

Ten  minutes  later  they  drove  away. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

A  HOLD-UP  AT  THE  RED  SCHOOLHOUSE 

Black  Julius  drove  the  car  that  carried  Bingham 
Harvard,  Tom  Clancy  and  Anderson  Van  Cleve 
away  from  the  clubhouse.  It  was  the  same  car 
that  had  taken  Katherine  and  her  company  out  to 
that  Connecticut  "wilderness,"  which,  although  it 
is  less  than  fifty  miles  from  New  York,  might  well 
be  a  thousand  miles  away  in  its  rough  and  seamed 
contour  and  wildness.  That  was  why  the  Forest- 
brook  Club  had  chosen  the  locality.  They  hunted 
foxes  there,  not  aniseed  bags. 

Night  had  fallen,  and  since  then  clouds  had  gath- 
ered thickly.  It  was  unutterably  dark.  But  the 
glaring  headlights  of  the  car  like  giant  fingers  picked 
up  and  exposed  to  view  every  object  that  appeared 
upon  the  highway  along  their  course.  And  so  pres- 
ently when  they  shot  at  racing  speed  around  a  slight 
bend  in  the  road  the  ribbon-like  beams  struck  upon 
the  red  schoolhouse — and  upon  the  figures  of  two 
men  who  stood  beside  the  roadway  before  it. 

The  huge  car  was  traveling  like  a  bullet  and 
would  have  shot  past  the  two  men  almost  as  swiftly. 
But  Harvard,  who  was  seated  beside  Julius,  called 
out  suddenly  when  the  lights  exposed  them  to  view. 

"Stop  the  car!"  he  commanded;  and  the  black 
obeyed. 

278 


HOLD-UP  AT  THE  RED  SCHOOLHOUSE 

Trembling,  pulsing,  heaving,  the  car  came  to  a 
standstill.  The  two  men  sprang  forward  and 
stopped  beside  the  mud-guard,  close  to  the  young 
bank  president. 

"Rushton!"  Harvard  exclaimed.  "And  Banta!" 
he  added  in  amazement. 

Then:  "How  does  it  happen  that  you  are  here, 
Rushton?" 

"I  haven't  been  away — not  so's  you  could  notice 
it,  Mr.  Harvard,"  Rushton  replied  quickly,  with 
a  broad  grin  of  appreciation  of  the  incident  upon 
his  face. 

"We  sent  our  astral  bodies  to  Mexico,  sir," 
Banta  added.  "We  thought  that  the  physical  ones 
might  be  more  useful  right  here." 

"Mr.  Van  Cleve  knew  that  I  hadn't  gone  away," 
Rushton  continued,  speaking  rapidly.  "We  cooked 
up  another  scheme  together,  which  served  as  well. 
I  figgered  it  out  that  there  was  a  way  for  a  feller 
like  me  to  be  in  two  places  at  once.  So,  you  see, 
right  now  I  am  here!  And  I'm  in  Mexico  City, 
tambien,  as  Mr.  Van  Cleve  puts  it;  which  means 
'likewise,'  'also,'  and  'just  the  same.'  I  am  here; 
and  I  am  there,  too.  And  the  part  of  me  that  is 
there  will  be  back  here  by  to-morrow,  I'm  thinking, 
or  by  the  day  after,  anyhow.  Eh,  Mr.  Van  Cleve?" 

"Yes.  I  think  so,"  Van  Cleve  answered.  "That 
is  how  we  estimated." 

"Get  in,"  Harvard  said.  "We  can  talk  as  we 
ride  on.  I  am  in  a  hurry.  We  are  after " 

"Mr.  Benton  Keese.  I  know,"  Rushton  inter- 
rupted. 


280      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

"You  know Do  you  know  what  has  hap- 
pened, Rushton?  You  and  Banta?" 

"We  know  one  thing  that  has  happened ;  maybe 
not  all  of  it,"  Rushton  replied  with  another  grin. 

"We  must  overtake  Keese  before  he  can  get  to 
his  hotel  in  the  city  and  away  from  it  again.  He 
and  his  sister  are  somewhere  on  the  road  ahead  of 
us." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  his  sister,  Mr.  Har- 
vard; but  he,  Mister  Benton-Holbrook-Chilton- 
Keese  by  name,  is  attendin'  night-school  this 
evenin',  and  you  won't  have  very  far  to  go  to  find 
him — buh-lieve  me!" 

"What?"  Clancy  cried  out,  his  eyes  upon  the  red 
schoolhouse. 

Rushton  jerked  his  head  toward  it  and  grinned. 

"Uh-huh,"  he  said.  "In  there.  The  door  wasn't 
locked.  We  thought  we'd  put  him  outa  sight  an' 
give  him  a  chance  to  think  things  over  a  little  while 
Banta  an'  me  talked  'em  over  and  waited  f 'r  you  an' 
Mr.  Clancy  an'  Mr.  Van  Cleve  to  show  up.  And 
we  kinda  wanted  to  see  Lady  Kate,  too.  I  suppose 
she's  comin'  in  another  car  behind  you." 

"Then  you  don't  know!"  Clancy  spoke  up. 

"Don't  know  what?"  Rushton's  eyes  narrowed. 
His  mouth  became  suddenly  grim;  and  his  jaws 
were  set  tightly  together  after  the  question  as  he 
turned  to  face  Tom  Clancy. 

Van  Cleve  replied  quickly,  before  either  of  his 
companions  could  do  so. 

"Something  has  happened  to  Mrs.  Harvard, 
Rushton.  We  do  not  know  what  it  is.  But  she 


HOLD-UP  AT  THE  RED  SCHOOLHOUSE    281 

has  disappeared,"  and  then,  swiftly,  he  explained 
everything  to  the  two  detectives. 

Rushton  and  Banta  exchanged  rapid  glances  at 
each  other  while  Van  Cleve  talked.  As  he  finished, 
the  distant  purring  of  an  approaching  automobile 
fell  upon  their  ears. 

"Drive  around  into  that  side  road,  Julius,"  Rush- 
ton  directed  quickly.  "Then  shut  off  your  lights 
so's  we  needn't  be  seen  hangin'  around  here  an' 
givin'  some  guy  an  excuse  to  stop  an'  ask  a  lota 
fool-questions.  Banta  'n  me'll  chase  along." 

"But,"  Clancy  spoke,  "is  Keese  secure — so  that 
he  can't  get  away?" 

"He  has  got  a  bracelet  of  mine  on  one  wrist  and 
a  bracelet  of  Banta's  on  the  other  one — and  the  twin 
of  both  of  'em  are  hitched  to  the  iron  legs  of  two 
desks  inside,"  Rushton  replied.  "I  guess  mebby 
if  it  was  the  Night  Wind  in  there  they  wouldn't 
hold  him,  but  bein'  that  he  ain't " 

But  Julius  shot  the  car  ahead  at  that  instant  at 
his  master's  command  and  turned  into  the  same  side 
road  to  which  Keese  had  directed  his  sister  that 
afternoon,  putting  out  his  lights  as  soon  as  he  had 
made  the  turn  and  got  his  bearings  properly.  -  Rush- 
ton  and  Banta  ran  after  it  and  were  lost  to  view 
of  the  searchlights  when  the  approaching  car  shot 
past  the  red  schoolhouse. 

Harvard  leaped  to  the  ground  as  soon  as  the 
other  car  had  gone  by. 

"Take  me  to  him  now,  he  ordered,"  and  started 
onward  toward  the  schoolhouse  door;  but  Rushton 
put  out  a  hand  and  detained  him. 


282      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Wait,  Mr.  Harvard — please,"  he  said  with  a 
quiet  dignity  that  was  new  to  his  known  character, 
and  yet  which  belonged  to  him  and  fitted  him;  the 
dignity  of  an  honest  man  who  could  face  the  world 
unblinkingly. 

Harvard  stopped. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  impatiently. 

"I  think  that  we  ought  to  know  something  about 
where  we're  at  before  we  go  in  there  an'  throw 
the  gaff  into  that  guy.  You  see,  we  ain't  got  nothin' 
on  him  which  will  let  us  hold  him  an'  'take  him  in/ 
like  you  would  do  with  any  decent  crook  you'd 
pinched.  I  couldn't  take  him  to  a  station  house, 
even  if  I  had  him  over  the  line  an'  into  New  York 
state  right  now,  and  make  a  charge  against  him  that 
would  go.  The  lieutenant  at  the  desk  would  turn 
him  loose  in  a  holy  minute." 

"Then  what  do  you  propose  to  do,  Rushton  ?" 

"You  see,  it's  this  way :  Banta  an'  me  know  that 
he  is  Chilton.  We  know  that  he  is  the  guy  that 
got  away  with  your  coin.  But — we  can't  prove 
that  we  know  it;  not  right  now  we  can't.  And  he 
can't  be  held  as  a  suspicious  character,  or  for  in- 
vestigation, or  anything  like  that,  just  because  of 
the  way  he  has  been  livin'  since  he  came  to  New 
York.  Why,  he's  been  livin'  at  your  house  almost 
as  much  as  anywheres  else;  and  under  his  right 
name,  too,  which  is  Benton  Keese." 

"Then  why  did  you  arrest  him?" 

"We  didn't  arrest  him.  We  just  took  him," 
Rushton  replied,  grinning. 

"Why — if  you  can  prove  nothing  against  him?" 


HOLD-UP  AT  THE  RED  SCHOOLHOUSE    283 

"Well,  we  figgered  that  he  was  bent  on  makin' 
his  getaway  mighty  sudden.  We  thought,  when 
we  lamped  him  comin'  along  the  road  just  at  the 
edge  of  dark  that  he  had  rung  the  all-right  bell  an' 
was  makin'  full  steam  ahead  for  the  sky-line.  So 
we  stopped  him." 

"Where?" 

"Right  here." 

"Was  he  on  foot?" 

"Yes." 

"And  alone?" 

"Sure.  And  bein'  as  there  wasn't  anybody 
around,  we  just  stepped  out  in  front  of  him  and 
held  him  up.  He  don't  know  that  we  are  cops. 
Maybe  he's  got  a  suspicion  that  way,  but  he  don't 
know  it." 

"He  knows  you,  Rushton." 

"Well,  he  didn't  know  me  this  trip.  Banta  an* 
me  tied  handkerchiefs  over  our  faces,  an'  Banta 
done  all  the  chinnin'.  We  thought  afterward  that 
mebby  we'd  been  a  little  too  precipitate.  But  when 
you  consider  that  he's  had  pretty  near  the  whole 
Dudley  Roland  agency  workin'  for  him  lately,  and 
that  he  has  been  havin'  me  and  you  and  Banta  and 
Mr.  Clancy  an'  Mr.  Van  Cleve  trailed  and  reported 
on  everywhere  we  go,  and  that  now  he  was  doin' 
the  sneaker-act  away  from  that  club  where  you  was 
entertainin'  him,  it  looked  to  us  like  he  was  hikin'. 
That's  why  we  stopped  him,  Mr.  Harvard;  and 
that's  why,  instead  of  goin'  on  to  that  club  as  we 
was  intendin'  to  do,  to  talk  it  over  with  you  three 
and  Lady  Kate,  we  decided  to  wait  right  here,  with 


284      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

him  tied  up  inside  of  the  schoolhouse,  an*  flag 
you  when  you  showed  up." 

"May  I  ask  a  few  questions,  Bingham?"  Van 
Cleve  requested,  stepping  nearer.  Then,  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  he  added,  addressing  Rushton : 
"Have  you  heard  from  Mexico?  From  Mr. 
Corona  ?" 

"Twice — since  you  an'  me  sent  that  hundred-an'- 
thirty  word  message  to  him.  Yes  sir." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"The  first  one  said  he  had  received  the  dope  all 
right,  and  the  second  one  said  he  had  found  the 
'goods'  that  we  asked  him  to  get,  an'  was  forward- 
in'  it  by  £;r-press,  that  bein',  in  his  opinion,  safer'n 
the  mail.  And  it's  about  due  to  arrive  here  to-mor- 
row, or  the  next  day,  accordin'  to  the  way  I  figger 
it  out." 

"Corona  had  discovered  what  you  wanted,  Rush- 
ton?" 

"Yep.  Some  in  your  office  in  that  there  Gauntlet 
Street,  an'  more  of  'em  in  the  other  place  where 
Chilton  lived  down  there,  in  Fil-lippy  Neery 
Street." 

"What  was  it  that  you  sent  for?"  Harvard 
asked. 

"The  Bertillon  dope,  Mr.  Harvard — finger-prints, 
thumb-prints.  And  there  ain't  no  human  way  but 
that  by  which  you  can  prove  that  Chilton  and  Keese 
are  the  same  man." 

"Senor  Tranquilino  Corona  was  the  most  effi- 
cient officer  in  the  secret  service  of  former  Presi- 


HOLD-UP  AT  THE  RED  SCHOOLHOUSE    285 

dent  Diaz,"  Van  Oeve  hastened  to  explain.  "He 
is  also  a  very  good  friend  of  mine. 

"Lieutenant  Rushton  realized  after  the  disap- 
pearance of  Chilton  from  the  Pullman  car  that  it 
would  be  extremely  difficult  to  identify  Keese  with 
Chilton,  and  last  Monday  after  we  came  away  from 
the  bank  Rushton  and  I  made  up  the  telegram  and 
sent  it  to  Corona." 

Harvard  turned  again  to  Rushton. 

"Did  you  already  suspect,  then,  that  Keese  was 
Chilton?"  he  asked. 

"Mr.  Clancy  gave  me  that  tip,  Mr.  Harvard. 
He  got  it  from  a  handshake.  I  had  picked  one  up 
myself  before  that;  only  I  didn't  know  the  value  of 
it  until  later — not  until  I  heard  Mr.  Van  Cleve  talk 
about  it  that  afternoon  at  the  bank.  You  see,  sir, 
that  time  when  I  called  at  your  house — the  evening 
of  the  day  you  an'  the  district  attorney  turned  me 
loose — and  I  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Benton  Keese, 
it  didn't  happen  to  be  the  first  time  I'd  set  eyes  onto 
him.  I  had  lamped  him  just  about  an  hour  before 
that  when  he  was  standin'  out  in  front  of  the 
Mammoth  an'  I  was  standin'  close  to  him  while  I 
waited  for  the  time  to  slip  past  before  I  could  go  to 
see  you  'n'  Lady  Kate.  And  I  wouldn't  have  taken 
a  second  look  at  him  then  if  he  hadn't  been  rollin' 
a  cigarette.  But,  first  off,  he  seemed  like  too  swell 
a  guy  to  be  usin'  his  own  makin's,  an'  then  it  cer- 
tainly was  a  queer  way  he  rolled  it.  But  even  then 
I  didn't  think  no  more  about  it  till  Mr.  Van  Cleve 
said  what  he  did  last  Monday." 


286      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  about  that,  Rushton?" 
Van  Cleve  asked. 

"There  wasn't  any  particular  reason,  sir;  only 
that  I  thought  that  mebby  you  or  Mr.  Clancy,  if 
you  knew  about  it,  might  say  'r  do  something  to 
flush  our  bird  before  I  had  the  gun  cocked  an' 
ready. 

"Say,  Mr.  Harvard,  do  you  wanta  go  inside  of 
the  schoolhouse  and  talk  to  him?  Because  I'm 
thinkin'  from  what's  been  told  to  me  that  it  wouldn't 
surprise  me  none  if  he  has  had  a  hand  in  fixin' 
that  frame-up  about  Lady  Kate's  bein'  hurt." 

Harvard  started  swiftly  ahead.  The  others  fol- 
lowed. The  young  bank  president  pushed  open  the 
door  and  entered.  Rushton  and  Banta  paused  be- 
side him,  and  with  flash-lights  taken  from  their 
pockets  shot  penetrating  rays  toward  the  spot  where 
they  had  left  their  captive — and  then  into  every 
corner  and  shadow  in  the  room.  But  Benton  Keese 
was  no  longer  there.  He  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

THE   DISAPPEARANCE  OF    KEESE 

There  was  no  denying  the  fact  that  Keese  had 
disappeared.  There  was  evidence  enough  at  hand 
also  to  explain  the  manner  of  his  going,  for  the  two 
school-desks  with  iron  legs  screwed  to  the  floor,  to 
which  he  had  been  fastened  in  the  manner  described 
by  Rushton,  were  missing,  too.  That  seems  laugh- 
able at  first ;  but  it  was  also  significant :  For  the 
screws  had  been  drawn  from  the  floor  by  a  proper 
tool,  not  pried  out  of  it;  and  the  remains  of  the 
desk  were  not  scattered  about  promiscuously. 
Therefore,  they  had  gone  away  with  Benton  Keese, 
presumably  through  the  small  door  at  the  rear  of 
the  schoolroom. 

Keese,  because  of  the  way  he  had  been  fastened, 
could  not  have  reached  either  of  the  desks  to  draw 
the  screws,  even  had  he  been  provided  with  a  tool 
for  doing  it;  nor  was  it  likely  that  he  had  trotted 
off  with  a  desk  beneath  each  arm.  It  was  plain, 
therefore,  that  assistance  had  been  given  him;  that 
another  person  had  been  there;  that  it  had  been 
somebody  who  could  obtain  immediate  access  to  a 
tool-box,  and  that  the  desks  had  been  taken  away 
with  the  man  simply  to  avoid  the  noise  that  would 
be  necessary  in  separating  him  from  them. 

Rushton  absorbed  all  of  those  details  very  quickly 
and  ran  for  the  little  door  at  the  rear,  and  through 
it  into  the  open  at  once.  Banta  followed.  The 
287 


288      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

others  retraced  their  steps  as  they  had  come  and 
returned  to  the  car.  Rushton  and  Banta  rejoined 
them  almost  at  once. 

"Keese  had  his  gray  car  waiting  for  him  down 
that  side  road,  Mr.  Harvard,"  Rushton  explained. 
"The  tracks  of  it  are  there.  We  found  them.  It 
was  drawn  up  at  the  side  of  the  road  among  some 
bushes  and  headed  the  other  way.  So  you  see  it 
was  waitin'  there  for  him." 

"Yes.  But  we  must  not  waste  time  talking  here, 
Rushton.  We " 

"Please  give  me  a  minute  more,  sir." 

"Go  on." 

"Banta  an'  me  figger  it  out  that  the  chauffeur 
of  his  car  had  walked  out  this  way  and  saw  us 
when  we  held  his  nibs  up  and  took  him  into  the 
schoolhouse.  /  didn't  stay  in  there  any  longer'n 
was  necessary;  hardly  a  minute;  just  long  enough 
to  help  make  him  fast.  I  didn't  want  him  to  recog- 
nize me  if  it  could  be  helped.  I  came  outside,  and 
Banta  came,  too,  a  minute  later.  Then  we  stood  at 
the  door  and  chinned  for  a  while  and  then  went  out 
to  the  roadside.  We  ain't  either  of  us  been  inside  of 
that  building  since  we  took  him  in  there.  See  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  it's  more'n  likely  that  that  chauffeur  of 
his'n  got  him  away  before  you  three  gentlemen  got 
here  at  all.  Anyhow,  it  explains  why  he  was  saun- 
terin'  along  the  highway  like  he  was  doin'  when 
we  lamped  him. 

"Now — will  you  all  please  take  a  look  at  this? 
I  picked  it  up  out  yonder  where  his  car  was  waitin'. 
Mebby  one  of  you  can  tell  who  it  belongs  to." 


THE  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  KEESE    289 

All  three  men  bent  forward  to  peer  closely  when 
Rushton  threw  the  gleam  of  his  flash-light  upon  an 
object  that  he  held  in  the  hollow  of  one  hand,  and 
Tom  Clancy  exclaimed  instantly: 

"Why,  it's  Betty's  bracelet-watch !  It  belongs  to 
Miss  Keese,"  he  added  soberly. 

"Then  she  was  out  there,  too,  in  that  waiting 
car,"  Rushton  said.  "But  she  wasn't  there  of  her 
own  free  will,  I  don't  think.  Look  closer,  Mr. 
Clancy.  You'll  see  two  or  three  tiny  spots  of  blood 
on  it  if  you  do.  It's  my  opinion,  and  Banta  agrees 
with  me,  that  she  was  tied  up  so's  she  couldn't 
get  loose,  and  that  she  had  something  over  her 
mouth  so's  she  couldn't  holler,  either.  But  that  she 
had  her  senses  with  her  all  the  same." 

"But ' 

"Wait,  please.  \Vhen  that  chauffeur  went  away 
an'  left  her  she  musta  tried  to  think  of  something 
that  she  could  do  to  leave  a  trace  behind  her  that 
she  had  been  there ;  and  so  she  must  have  managed 
to  scrape  that  bracelet  loose  from  her  wrist  against 
the  car  or  something,  and  drop  it  alongside  of  the 
road.  But  whether  she  done  it  on  purpose  or  it 
got  there  where  we  found  it  by  accident,  it  was 
there;  and  it  means " 

"What?"  Harvard  asked. 

Instead  of  replying  directly,  Rushton  turned. 

"Julius,"  he  said  sharply,  "turn  on  your  lights 
and  your  power.  I'll  ride  beside  you.  Go  as  fast 
as  you  like  till  you  come  to  a  cross-road  or  a  lane 
or  a  turn-off  of  any  kind.  Then  pull  up  till  further 
orders.  It's  a  lead-pipe  cinch  that  Keese's  car  didn't 
go  out  of  that  side  road  this  way. 


290      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Banta  is  goin'  to  chase  along  the  main  road 
in  the  taxi  that  brought  us  down  here,  which  is 
waitin'  up  the  road  a  half  mile  or  so  to  head  him 
off  if  possible.  If  Mr.  Van  Qeve  will  follow 
my  advice  he'll  go  along  with  Banta.  The  rest 
of  the  bunch  will  try  to  follow  the  trail  left  by 
Keese's  car.  And  we  can  do  that,  too — till  it 
takes  to  a  traveled  road.  After  that  we'll  have 
to  do  some  guessin'  an'  figgerin. 

"Go  on,  Julius." 

Connecticut  roads  throughout  that  region  which 
is  located  back  of  the  Norwalks  are  rough  and 
hilly  and  many  of  them  are  used  but  little,  and 
the  narrow  and  bush-fringed  one  that  Harvard's 
car  followed,  driven  at  a  rapid  speed  by  black 
Julius,  belonged  in  the  latter  class.  It  was  that 
sort  of  a  road  which  is  sometimes  described  as 
leading  uphill  both  ways. 

As  soon  as  they  had  started  Rushton  turned  in 
his  seat  and  said  to  the  two  men  who  were  seated 
behind : 

"Banta  and  me  had  time  to  do  a  little  exam- 
inin'  just  where  Keese's  car  had  been  waitin',  and 
the  tracks  we  found  told  us  that  the  gray  car 
didn't  come  to  that  place  by  the  main  road. 

"It  came  from  the  way  we're  headin'  now,  and 
it  was  turned  around  so's  to  head  back  again  to- 
ward the  way  it  had  come  from  while  it  waited 
— which,  as  /  look  at  it,  is  pretty  good  reason  to 
suppose  that  it  wasn't  goin'  right  back  to  the  city 
this  trip.  So  mebby  we  can  follow  it,  and  mebby 
we  can't.  But  we're  goin'  to  have  a  try  at  it, 
anyhow." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

WHAT  BECAME  OF  BETTY 

Betty  Keese,  sent  from  the  room  where  her 
brother  had  been  called  a  thief  and  a  forger  by  the 
man  she  loved,  and  where  Keese  in  sudden  rage 
had  attempted  to  strike  Clancy,  but  was  pre- 
vented from  doing  so  by  the  swift  action  of  the 
Night  Wind,  was  more  than  ever  concerned  about 
the  absence  of  Katherine. 

She  did  not  understand  the  epithets  that  Tom 
had  hurled  at  Benton,  because  she  had  been  told 
nothing  about  the  "Holbrook  Chilton"  affair.  But 
she  did  know  her  brother  better  than  anybody 
else  knew  him,  even  though  much  of  her  knowledge 
of  him  was  intuitive;  and  she  did  not  for  a  mo- 
ment doubt  that  Tom  Clancy  had  believed  that  he 
had  very  good  and  sufficient  reason  for  making 
such  charges,  else — for  Betty  loved  him — he  would 
not  have  made  them  at  all. 

And  she  was  certain  when  that  room  door  closed 
behind  her  that  Benton  did  know  where  Katherine 
was  and  that  the  accident  that  was  supposed  to 
have  happened  to  her  was  a  fake,  and  had  not 
occurred  at  all.  It  never  occurred  to  Betty  not 
to  go  to  the  red  schoolhouse.  She  had  believed  that 
Benton  was  in  earnest  in  giving  her  that  direction 
and  she  followed  it  the  moment  she  was  free  to 

291 


292      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

do  so  with  all  the  speed  that  she  could  muster;  and 
her  Kentucky  training  had  imparted  plenty  of 
strength  to  her  muscles.  Accustomed  to  rural 
localities  and  recalling  distinctly  the  appearance  of 
the  little  schoolhouse,  she  ran  from  the  club  at 
the  end  of  the  veranda  unnoticed,  struck  across 
the  field  to  cut  off  the  great  bend  in  the  main  high- 
way and  sped  onward  with  rapid  footsteps  toward 
her  goal. 

The  schoolhouse  door  was  not  fastened  and  she 
peered  inside  breathlessly,  really  believing  that  she 
would  find  Lady  Kate  there.  But  it  was  deserted 
of  course.  Then  she  went  outside  again  and  around 
into  the  side  road — to  discover  that  it  was  as  de- 
serted as  the  schoolhouse.  So  recalling  exactly 
what  Benton-had  said  to  her — that  she  should  wait 
patiently  until  he  came — she  selected  a  seat  on  a 
rock  beside  the  road  and  composed  herself  to  wait. 
Time  passed  and  the  shadows  lengthened.  The 
afternoon  was  changing  into  evening  and  night,  al- 
though the  sunlight  still  gleamed  upon  the  topmost 
leaves  of  many  of  the  surrounding  trees. 

Then  she  was  startled  by  the  purring  of  an  ap- 
proaching motor,  and  soon  the  gray  car,  which  she 
instantly  recognized  as  the  one  in  whicty  Benton 
had  taken  her  to  ride  the  preceding  Monday,  darted 
into  view  from  around  a  twist  in  that  wood-bor- 
dered roadway  and  came  to  a  stop  in  front  of  her. 
The  man  who  drove  it  she  did  not  know ;  had  never 
seen.  But  she  did  not  consider  that  point  at  all 
when  she  stepped  quickly  forward  toward  him  and 
said  interrogatively : 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  BETTY          293 

"I  am  Miss  Keese.  This  is  my  brother's  car,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Keese,"  the  chauffeur  replied,  re- 
spectfully touching  his  cap. 

"He  directed  you  to  meet  me  here,  I  suppose?" 
she  asked. 

"Yes,  Miss  Keese.  I  will  turn  the  car  around 
if  you  will  wait  a  moment." 

He  did  so,  and  drove  it  beside  the  road  among 
the  overshadowing  bushes  where  Rushton  and  Banta 
were  later  to  discover  that  it  had  been  standing. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  Betty  asked  as  he  got 
down  and  came  toward  her. 

"I  was  directed  to  wait  a  short  time  for  Mr. 
Keese,  and  then  to  take  you  to  a  house  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, if  he  was  detained,"  the  chauffeur  replied. 

"Then  take  me  there  now"  Betty  demanded  im- 
petuously and  with  heightened  color.  "You  can  re- 
turn for  him — if  the  house  isn't  far  away.  I  will 
go  there  now,  please.  There  is  a  friend  awaiting 
me." 

The  man  looked  at  her  oddly,  but  she  did  not  per- 
ceive it.  From  a  distance,  at  the  same  moment, 
came  the  purring  of  another  motor.  The  chauf- 
feur stepped  nearer  to  Betty,  reached  past  her,  and 
pulled  a  light  lap-robe  from  the  seat  beside  the 
driver's  place.  He  said  : 

"Will  you  get  in,  Miss  Keese?" 

Unsuspectingly  Betty  stepped  forward  and  lifted 
a  foot  preparatory  to  getting  into  the  car.  For  the 
moment  her  back  was  turned  to  the  chauffeur.  He 
stood  directly  behind  it — and  it  was  the  situation 


294      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

for  which  he  had  been  maneuvering.  For  it  would 
appear  that  Betty's  brother  had  foreseen  every  pos- 
sible incident  of  that  day,  and  had  given  his  orders 
accordingly.  In  fact,  the  brief  directions  in  Span- 
ish, given  to  the  men  at  the  house  where  Lady  Kate 
had  been  taken,  had  foretold  to  them  the  possible 
arrival  there  of  his  sister  and  had  directed  what 
was  to  be  done  with  her.  The  instant  when  Betty's 
back  was  turned  to  the  chauffeur  he  threw  light- 
ly over  her  head  and  held  there  the  robe  that  he 
had  taken  from  the  carseat. 

Betty  struggled  and  tried  to  call  out;  but  the 
chauffeur  was  a  powerful  man  and  held  her  easily, 
while  the  robe  over  her  head  deadened  the  sound  of 
her  cries.  All  the  while  the  man  was  saying  to  her : 

"You'll  not  be  hurt,  Miss  Keese.  It's  your 
brother's  orders.  It  won't  do  any  good  to  fight 
back,  because  I've  got  to  do  it.  And  you'll  be  let 
loose  as  soon  as  we  get  to  the  house  where  the 
other  lady  is  waiting." 

While  he  talked  he  was  fastening  a  strap  around 
the  encircling  blanket  so  that  she  could  not  get 
away. 

"I've  got  to  take  you  there  first  and  then  come 
back  here  after  Mr.  Keese,"  he  continued.  "I  don't 
like  to  do  this;  you  needn't  think  I  do.  But  it's 
his  orders,  and  I've  got  to;"  and  all  the  time  he 
was  working  steadily  to  render  her  fastenings  the 
more  secure. 

"Now,  Miss  Keese,"  he  said  finally,  "if  you 
will  give  me  your  word  of  honor  that  you  won't 
call  out,  and  won't  make  any  noise,  and  won't  try 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  BETTY          295 

to  get  away,  I'll  take  that  robe  away.  If  it  was 
some  other  man  than  your  brother  who  had  ordered 
me  to  do  this,  you  might  have  good  reason  to  get 
scared;  but  being  him,  and  seeing  that  he  is  your 
brother,  you  had  best  promise,  so  that  I  can  make 
you  as  comfortable  as  possible." 

Betty,  furious  with  anger,  reasoned  nevertheless. 
She  was  going  to  Katherine"  and  before  her  brother 
came.  If  she  called  out,  if  somebody  from  that  ap- 
proaching motor  which  she  could  no  longer  hear 
should  interfere,  she  might  be,  and  doubtless  would 
be,  prevented  from  getting  to  Katherine  in  advance 
of  Benton.  So  reluctantly  she  gave  the  promise, 
and  he  removed  the  robe  from  around  her  head 
and  face,  but  did  not  take  it  away  entirely — so  that 
presently,  when  she  discovered  that  he  had  left  her, 
or  had  withdrawn  to  some  spot  where  she  could  no 
longer  see  him,  she  found,  also,  that  her  arms  were 
still  confined  and  that  the  strap  that  held  them  was 
fastened  behind  her  so  she  could  not  leave  the  seat. 

She  called  to  the  chauffeur,  but  he  did  not  reply. 
Then  she  waited  impatiently  for  a  time  before  she 
struggled  to  free  herself.  But  she  did  make  the 
effort  at  last,  and  succeeded  in  freeing  one  arm,  with 
which  she  sought  to  reach  around  behind  her  in 
order  to  release  the  strap  that  held  her  fast.  It 
was  then  that  the  bracelet  watch  was  torn  from 
her  wrist — accidentally  and  not  by  design,  although 
it  served  the  purpose  as  well  later. 

Immediately  after  that  the  chauffeur  came 
hurrying  back  to  her,  and  she  could  hear  him  at 
the  tool-box,  while  he  said  rapidly: 


396      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Mr.  Keese  is  here.  He  will  be  with  you  in  a 
moment" ;  and  he  hastened  away  again. 

A  little  while  later  she  heard  the  voice  of  Benton 
harshly  giving  directions  to  the  chauffeur,  behind 
where  she  was  seated.  She  heard  him  say : 

"Quick,  now !  Wrench  those  things  loose.  Never 
mind  the  cuffs.  Leave  them  where  they  are  for  the 
present.  Carry  those  things  into  the  woods  and 
drop  them.  It's  dark  now.  They  won't  be  seen. 
Now,  hurry;  or  I'll  leave  VQU  here." 

Then  he  sprang  into  the  seat  beside  her  and 
seized  the  steering-wheel;  and  Betty  saw  with  the 
utmost  amazement,  although  dimly,  for  darkness 
had  fallen  in  there  under  the  trees,  that  from  each  of 
Benton's  wrists  something  ominous  was  dangling. 

The  chauffeur  returned  and  sprang  into  the  rum- 
ble-seat of  the  car.  Benton  started  it  forward,  and 
they  shot  away  through  the  darkness  until  after 
they  had  rounded  that  twist  of  the  narrow  road. 
Then  the  lights  were  turned  on.  Keese  had  paid 
not  the  slightest  attention  to  the  exclamations,  pro- 
tests, and  questions  that  Betty  had  fired  at  him 
ever  since  his  arrival.  But  after  they  had  rounded 
the  turn  in  the  road  he  leaned  nearer  to  her  and 
said  grimly  into  her  ear  so  that  the  chauffeur  be- 
hind them  in  the  rumble-seat  could  not  hear  him: 

"I  am  taking  you  to  Kitten  now,  and  it  rests  with 
you  only  what  will  happen  to  you  after  that.  For 
I  have  got  to  go  away  to-night.  And  she  is  going 
with  me.  You  shall  go,  too,  under  conditions — or 
stay.  And  I'll  promise  that  vou  won't  want  to  do 
that." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

THE  COURAGE  OF  LADY  KATE 

Lady  Kate  started  to  her  feet  when  she  heard 
the  voice  of  Benton  Keese  outside  the  door.  When 
he  had  left  her  there  nearly  four  hours  earlier  she 
had  remained  in  a  sort  of  physical  half  stupor  for 
a  long  time,  although  her  brain  had  been  busy 
enough  with  the  problem  she  was  facing  and  with 
her  material  helplessness  to  meet  and  overcome  it. 
Nevertheless  her  courage,  always  superb,  did  not 
falter  even  in  that  extremity.  It  was  a  man's  kind 
of  courage,  which,  while  it  does  not  belittle  the 
fearsome  things  that  threaten,  faces  them  without 
flinching  and  struggles  to  the  last  to  overcome  them, 
never  doubting  ultimate  victory. 

She  had  remained  inert,  the  better  to  think  and 
plan  and  determine  what  she  should  do  when  Ben- 
ton  Keese  returned ;  but  during  the  last  hour,  after 
the  dark-skinned  woman  appeared  to  make  a  light 
for  her,  she  had  been  pacing  restlessly  up  and 
down  the  room  until  the  last  few  moments,  when 
she  had  again  dropped  upon  the  low  chair.  The 
woman  had  entered  softly,  and  had  paused  just 
inside  the  door,  tentatively,  and  with  a  backward 
glance  over  her  shoulder.  Katherine,  following 
that  glance,  saw  that  one  of  the  men  who  had  been 
outside  was  there  waiting — and  watching.  Evi- 

297 


298      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

dently  the  woman  had  been  warned  not  to  enter 
Lady  Kate's  presence  unguarded. 

Save  for  the  woman's  hasty  return  and  exit 
when  she  took  away  Katherine's  hat  and  gauntlets 
— to  which  the  captive  had  paid  no  attention — and 
when  she  came  later  to  make  a  light,  Katherine  had 
been  left  utterly  alone.  Thus  opportunity  had  been 
afforded  her  to  recover  from  the  shock  of  the  mon- 
strous trick  that  had  been  played  upon  her  and  to 
regain  her  self-poise  and  self-reliance.  For  she  had 
been  stunned  by  the  enormity  of  the  act  committed 
against  her,  rather  than  frightened  by  it. 

So  when  after  the  hours  of  waiting  she  did 
hear  the  voice  of  Benton  Keese  beyond  the  door 
that  opened  upon  the  porch,  and  when  that  was 
followed  by  the  tread  of  his  feet  upon  the  weather- 
worn boards,  she  was  entirely  her  old  brave  self 
again,  unafraid,  defiant  and  resolute;  and  she 
stepped  behind  the  small  table  that  occupied  the 
center  of  the  room  under  the  swinging  lamp  and 
waited.  She  possessed  no  weapon  of  any  sort ;  not 
so  much  as  a  stick.  And  she  had  searched  fruit- 
lessly for  something  of  the  sort  during  the  time  of 
her  restless  pacing  to  and  fro.  Still  she  believed 
that  she  was  armed,  nevertheless,  with  the  moral 
power  of  right  over  a  contemplated  wrong;  with 
her  own  individuality  and  purity  and  loftiness  of 
soul. 

Always,  until  that  moment  whenever  she  had 
heard  the  voice  and  step  of  Benton  Keese,  she  had 
been  in  fear  of  him.  Now,  when  he  was  there, 
and  she  was  his  prisoner,  and,  in  a  sense,  at  his 


THE  COURAGE  OF  LADY  KATE 

mercy,  she  suddenly  feared  him  not  at  all.  Literally, 
she  was  unafraid.  She  made  a  picture,  too,  fac- 
ing him  as  she  did,  when  he  opened  that  outer  door 
with  a  key  and  entered  the  room. 

He  closed  it  and  stood  before  it,  looking  at  her ; 
and  she  returned  his  gaze  steadfastly,  without  a 
tremor  of  eye  or  lip,  without  the  slightest  quicken- 
ing of  her  heartbeats,  and  without  one  nervous 
dread.  For  suddenly  she  had  become  clothed  with 
entire  confidence  in  her  own  power  to  master  a 
situation  that  was  almost  unthinkable  because  of 
the  monstrous  effrontery  and  foolhardiness  of  it. 
Her  slender  figure  was  erect,  her  eyes  were  calm 
and  inscrutable,  her  pose  was  one  that  she  might 
have  assumed  had  an  unwelcome  guest  entered  her 
own  home  and  her  presence. 

Perhaps  that  was  why  Benton  Keese  came  to  a 
full  stop  inside  of  the  door  and  stood  facing  her 
for  a  time,  speechless.  Doubtless  he  had  expected 
to  find  her  overcome  with  terror  and  prepared  to 
plead  with  him  for  the  consideration  and  the  mercy 
he  had  determined  not  to  grant.  More  than  likely 
he  had  anticipated  tears,  protestations,  passionate 
pleadings  and  prayers  to  be  set  free  at  once  and  re- 
turned to  her  home.  There  was  no  suggestion  of 
any  of  them  in  the  attitude  of  Katherine  Harvard, 
the  bride,  the  wife,  of  the  Night  Wind.  And  he 
was  startled,  amazed — puzzled,  too. 

"Have  you  come  to  take  me  back  again,  in  the 
hope  that  I  will  excuse  your  conduct  and  forget  the 
confession  you  made  to  me?"  she  asked  him  calm- 
ly, and  as  if  with  the  certainty  that  he  had  done  so. 


800      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

He  smiled,  then,  recovering  himself,  and  glanced 
at  his  watch  before  he  replied.  Apparently  he  was 
merely  estimating  the  time  he  could  afford  to  spare 
for  argument  with  her. 

"I  have  come,"  he  said,  "to  take  you  away.  But 
not  back  to  the  clubhouse.  Nor  to  the  place  you 
have  called  home.  I  have  come  back  to  take  you 
— away.  That  is  definite  enough  for  the  present." 

"I  will  not  go,"  she  replied. 

"You  will  have  to  go.  If  you  refuse  to  walk  to 
my  car,  which  is  waiting  for  us,  you  will  be  carried 
to  it.  Oh,  /  will  not  touch  you — yet.  But  I  have 
two  men  here.  You  have  seen  them  both.  They 
will  perform  that  small  service  for  me  in  case  you 
are  obstinate.  Come.  Are  you  ready  to  go  quietly  ? 
The  woman  is  bringing  a  hood  and  coat  and  motor- 
veil  which  I  have  provided.  It  is  nearly  half  a 
mile  to  the  place  where  the  car  is  waiting.  And 
' — Betty  is  there  to  receive  you." 

Betty  ?  Katherine  was  visibly  startled.  Then  she 
was  angry,  for  she  did  not  doubt  that  he  lied. 

"I  do  not  believe  you,"  she  said. 

He  shrugged  and  put  out  his  hands  deprecatingly. 

"She  is  there,  waiting  for  you,"  he  said.  "See, 
I  have  brought  this  with  me  to  prove  it."  > 

He  tossed  a  slip  of  paper  upon  the  table  between 
them. 

"I  thought  you  would  not  believe  me.  Betty 
thought  so,  too;  so  she  wrote  that  message  at  my 
request.  She  approved  of  it,  too,  or  she  wouldn't 
have  written  it.  You  know  her  well  enough  for 
that.  Read  what  she  has  said." 


THE  COURAGE  OF  LADY  KATE       301 

But  Katharine  did  not  lower  her  glance.  She 
still  stared  at  Benton  Keese  with  that  same  half 
impersonal  scrutiny  that  she  had  devoted  to  him 
ever  since  he  came  into  the  room;  and  she  still 
doubted,  not  having  looked  upon  the  writing. 

"Betty  approved?"  she  repeated  after  him.  "Of 
what  did  she  approve  ?" 

"Read  what  she  has  written.  That  is  your  an- 
swer." 

So  Katherine  dropped  her  eyes,  and  read  in  sil- 
ence: 

"Come.  I  am  waiting  for  you  in  Benton's  car. 
It  will  be  better  for  both  of  us  if  we  are  together. 

"BETTY." 

The  handwriting  was  unmistakably  Betty's. 
Katherine  no  longer  doubted  that  she  was  at  the 
car,  waiting.  Nevertheless  she  did  not  understand 
just  how  that  could  be,  unless 

"Betty  has  made  you  do  this,  Benton?  Has 
found  a  way  to  force  you  to " 

"Betty  is  there.  It  is  enough,"  he  interrupted 
her  shortly.  "And  we  waste  time.  Here  is  the 
Mexican  woman  with  the  things  for  you  to  wear." 

He  opened  and  closed  the  case  of  his  watch  with 
an  impatient  snap. 

"Will  you  take  me  back  to  the  club  if  I  consent 
to  go  with  you  now?"  Katherine  asked. 

"No,"  he  said,  and  again  snapped  the  watch- 
case.  "Put  on  those  things  and  come  with  me.  My 
time  is  up." 


302      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"But  I  must  know " 

"Will  you  come,  or  shall  I  call  those  two  men 
to  lead  you — or  to  carry  you,  as  the  case  may  be?" 
For  the  briefest  instant  more  she  hesitated;  and 
while  she  did  so  Keese  spoke  to  the  Mexican 
woman,  who  opened  that  inside  door  through  which 
she  had  appeared  and  spoke  two  names  into  the 
darkness  beyond  it. 

"Jose!  Manuel!"  she  called;  and  the  two  ugly 
faced  men  Katherine  had  seen  in  the  yard  when 
she  arrived,  appeared,  and  stood  waiting,  just  be- 
yond the  opening.  They  impressed  her  much  as 
two  savage  dogs  might  have  done.  She  felt  in- 
stinctively that  they  would  attack  and  perhaps  bite, 
too,  at  a  word  from  their  master;  and  she  still  be- 
lieved in  the  power  within  herself  to  control  Ben- 
ton  Keese.  She  was  still  without  actual  fear  of 
him  alone. 

"I  will  go,"  she  said  calmly,  and  began  to  adjust 
the  things  that  the  Mexican  woman  had  brought. 

"Hurry!"  Keese  ordered  impatiently,  and 
snapped  his  watch  again. 

It  occurred  to  Katherine  then  for  the  first  time 
that  Benton  had  feared  pursuit  since  the  moment 
of  his  arrival.  She  had  not  asked  him  vvhere  he 
had  been  during  the  time  of  his  absence,  but  she 
did  not  doubt  that  he  had  returned  to  the  club- 
house to  account  there,  in  some  manner,  for  her 
absence.  Now,  as  she  hastened  to  comply  with  his 
wish,  it  occurred  to  her  that  possibly  he  had  been 
unable  to  account  satisfactorily  for  her  disappear- 


THE  COURAGE  OF  LADY  KATE       303 

ance,  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  disappear  also, 
and  that  he  believed  he  had  been  pursued. 

She  heard  him  giving  rapid  instructions  to  the 
two  men  and  the  woman  who  had  served  him 
there,  but  he  spoke  in  Spanish,  a  language  that 
she  did  not  understand.  Then  she  was  ready.  Out- 
side the  darkness  seemed  to  her  intense,  coming,  as 
she  had  done,  from  the  lighted  room. 

She  stumbled  and  he  put  out  a  hand  and  took 
her  by  the  wrists. 

"I  told  you  that  I  would  not  touch  you — yet," 
he  said.  "But  I  must  lead  you,  or  you  will  go 
astray  in  the  darkness  and  fall." 

She  made  no  reply.  They  passed  across  the  yard 
and  through  the  gateway  and  into  the  blackness  of 
the  tree-bordered  roadway.  Then  on  with  rapid 
steps,  for  Keese  seemed  intent  upon  making  speed 
and  therefore  increased  it  as  they  advanced  until 
Katherine  panted  with  the  exertion.  How  long  she 
walked  in  that  manner,  how  far  they  went  while 
he  grasped  her  by  the  wrist,  Katherine  did  not 
know;  but  they  came  to  a  stop  suddenly  and  she 
realized  that  they  were  actually  beside  the  car. 

"Betty!"  she  called  out,  startled  in  spite  of  her 
courage,  lest  her  friend  should  not  be  waiting  there 
after  all. 

But  the  reply  came  instantly. 

"Here,  Kittie,"  Betty  called  back  from  the  dark- 
ness; and  Katherine  drew  a  swift  breath  of  relief. 

"We  will  have  no  talking  now.  Save  that  until 
later,"  Keese  ordered. 

Then  the  head-lights  of  the  car  were  switched 


304      THE    NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

on  and  by  the  refraction  from  them  Katherine 
could  see  that  Betty  was  perched  in  the  rumble  seat, 
and  that  a  man — the  chauffeur,  she  decided — stood 
beside  the  car,  waiting.  She  was  assisted  into  one 
of  the  remaining  two  seats.  Keese  sprang  into  the 
other  one,  under  the  steering  wheel.  The  engine 
was  humming.  The  chauffeur  seated  himself  at  the 
side  of  the  car,  at  Katherine's  feet.  The  next  mo- 
ment they  were  plunging  forward  through  the  night 
at  a  rate  of  speed  that  was  foolhardy  under  the 
circumstances,  but  against  which  Katherine  made 
no  protest. 

Twice  during  the  first  few  minutes  she  half 
turned  in  her  seat  to  speak  to  Betty,  but  each  time 
Benton  Keese  interrupted  her  with  savage  earnest- 
ness by  saying : 

"If  you  don't  want  me  to  ditch  the  car,  sit  tight 
and  keep  still."  The  last  time  he  added  : 

"You  will  have  plenty  of  opportunity  to  talk 
later." 

Nevertheless  after  that  second  effort  Betty  man- 
aged to  bend  forward  and  to  say  into  Katherine's 
ear: 

"Benton  forced  me  to  come  with  him,  dear;  but 
I  am  glad  he  did  so.  Be  brave,  Kittie,  for  I  won't 
let  him  harm  you." 

Betty  meant,  too,  to  keep  her  word  if  she  could. 


CHAPTER   XL 

IN  PURSUIT  OF  THE  GRAY  CAR 

Highways  in  that  part  of  Connecticut  which  is 
among  the  hills  just  back  of  the  Norwalks  make 
many  twists  and  curves.  It  is  a  locality  of  rocks 
and  boulders,  of  hills  and  dales  and  streams — and 
so  the  flashes  from  the  powerful  headlights  of  Ben- 
ton  Keese's  car  shot  in  almost  every  conceivable 
direction  at  one  time  and  another  as  they  plunged 
forward  through  the  darkness. 

If  you  should,  with  a  scrap  of  paper  and  a  pen- 
cil, make  a  deeply  concave  loop  nearly  like  a  wide 
and  round-bottomed  letter  V  it  would  be  a  fairly 
good  plan  of  the  road  that  Benton  Keese's  car 
followed  from  the  red  schoolhcuse  when  Betty 
first  became  a  passenger  upon  it.  The  car  stopped 
at  the  bottom  of  the  loop.  There,  Keese  got  down 
and  made  the  rest  of  his  way  to  the  Ghost  house, 
on  foot — nearly  straight  ahead;  and  to  that  point 
Keese  returned  later  with  Katherine,  and  the  car 
went  onward,  along  the  left  side  of  the  loop  which 
ultimately  emerged  again  upon  another  traveled 
highway  as  broad  and  wide  and  well  kept  as  that 
one  which  passes  in  front  of  the  red  schoolhouse. 

Rushton,  seated  beside  black  Julius,  endeavored 
to  approximate  the  probable  time  that  Keese  had 
been  gone  from  the  schoolhouse  when  they  dis- 
covered his  escape;  and  he  did  it  cleverly,  as  it 

305 


306      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

turned  out.  He  figured  that  the  escape  could  not 
have  been  made  as  it  was  made — or  would  not  have 
been — unless  the  man  who  had  assisted  the  prisoner 
had  also  been  a  witness  to  his  capture  and  had  gone 
into  the  schoolhouse  by  the  rear  door  as  Rushton 
and  Banta  came  out  of  it  at  the  front. 

Rushton  and  his  companion  had  remained  seated 
on  the  schoolhouse  steps,  talking,  a  long  time  be- 
fore the  darkness  settled  so  densely  that  they 
thought  it  wise  to  go  forward  to  the  roadside  in 
order  not  to  miss  the  lights  of  Harvard's  car  when 
it  should  appear.  And  so,  taking  it  all  together, 
the  ex-lieutenant  believed  that  Keese  had  very 
nearly  an  hour  the  start  of  them  when  the  actual 
chase  began.  What  he  did  not  know,  and  could 
not  estimate  upon,  was  the  time  that  Keese  lost 
while  his  car  waited  for  him  to  go  after  Katherine. 
Only  Rushton  did  figure  that  Keese  would  be  ob- 
liged to  make  a  stop  somewhere,  for  Katherine  was 
not  then  with  him,  and  hence  she  was  temporarily 
detained  in  the  neighborhood,  and  Keese  was  un- 
doubtedly going  after  her.  Rushton  recalled  some- 
thing of  the  character  of  Lady  Kate,  too,  as  he  had 
"known  her  in  the  days  of  police  work,  and  he  did 
not  for  a  moment  imagine  that  she  would  not  re- 
sist with  all  her  power  a  journey  in  Benton  Keese's 
car,  against  her  will.  Thus  he  figured  on  delay. 

He  reasoned,  silently  of  course,  that  the  hour, 
and  possibly  a  trifle  more,  would  be  very  greatly 
lessened :  that  Keese  would  not  be  more  than  half 
an  hour,  and  perhaps  much  less  than  that,  in  ad- 
vance of  them. 


IN  PURSUIT  OF  THE  GRAY  CAR     307 

It  was  a  sharp  bend  in  the  road  where  Keese's 
car  had  waited  for  him.  Julius  was  compelled  to 
slow  down  considerably;  and  as  they  were  making 
it  Rushton  called  out  to  him  to  stop.  With  his 
flash-light  he  studied  the  roadway,  which  was  at 
a  depression  there ;  and  as  a  consequence  was  sandy, 
made  so  by  rainy  intervals,  when  the  water  had 
washed  miniature  gutters  in  the  ancient  roadbed. 
Rushton  was  out  of  the  car  only  a  few  moments. 
When  he  returned  to  it  and  had  directed  Julius  to 
drive  on,  he  turned  in  his  seat  and  said : 

"He  stopped  back  there.  He  went  somewhere 
down  that  branch  in  the  road.  He  went  on  foot, 
because  his  car  couldn't  get  through.  But  he  did 
bring  Lady  Kate  back  with  him.  She  is  a  passen- 
ger in  his  car  now.  Anyhow,  he  brought  a  woman 
back  with  him,  and  it  must  have  been  her.  I  found 
her  tracks  in  the  sand." 

They  shot  onward  after  that.  Several  times  as 
they  advanced  Rushton  could  see  flashes  of  light 
far  ahead  of  them  that  reached  like  fingers  across 
the  perspective,  and  he  knew  that  they  were  made 
by  the  lights  of  another  car.  He  hoped  it  was  the 
car  they  were  pursuing.  It  was  not  possible  to 
guess  the  destination  toward  which  Keese  was  mak- 
ing, only  the  general  direction — nor  did  Rushton 
lose  that  when  they  ran  out  upon  the  highway.  He 
stopped  Julius  again,  and  got  down  to  make  further 
studies  with  the  aid  of  his  flash-light. 

"He  is  going  to  New  York,  all  right,"  he  an- 
nounced as  he  reentered  the  car.  "Hit  it  up,  Julius 
— only  be  careful  not  to  hit  anything  else." 


808      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

Bingham  Harvard,  in  the  rear,  seated  beside 
Clancy,  was  reminded,  in  spite  of  the  strain  upon 
him,  of  another  wild  ride  he  had  once  taken  with 
Julius  as  chauffeur,  in  the  days  when  he  was  called 
"The  Night  Wind,"  and  at  a  time  when  he  was 
forced  to  establish  an  alibi  for  himself  in  order  to 
protect  Lady  Kate.  That  was  long  before  she  be- 
came his  bride,  or  he  had  supposed  she  ever 
would  be.* 

Harvard  was  strangely  silent  during  the  chase 
after  Keese's  car.  At  times  when  Tom  Clancy  at- 
tempted conversation  or  offered  suggestions  Har- 
vard merely  nodded;  and  even  his  best  friend,  as 
Clancy  surely  was,  would  have  been  amazed  to 
know  of  the  tempest  that  was  raging  within  him. 

For  the  "Night  Wind,"  in  all  that  the  name  im- 
plied, was  aroused.  All  of  the  abnormal,  unnat- 
ural strength  that  was  bound  within  his  muscles 
strained  at  the  leashes  of  his  self-control,  eager  to 
be  free,  to  rend,  and  break,  and  destroy;  for  Bing- 
ham Harvard  kept  silent  and  motionless  only  be- 
cause he  was  struggling  inwardly  for  that  self-con- 
trol which  he  knew  he  must  retain  when  they  should 
catch  up  with  Keese.  He  knew  that  if  it  failed  him 
then  Keese  would  be  broken  and  torn  apart  and 
crushed  and  killed.  Only  those  men  who  have  to 
fight  against  themselves  can  appreciate  the  magni- 
tude of  that  struggle  of  Harvard's  that  had  been 
going  on  since  the  first  moment  of  suspicion  against 
Keese  concerning  what  really  had  happened. 

The  outcome  of  the  pursuit  of  Keese  for  the 

*See  "Alias  the  Night  Wind." 


IN  PURSUIT  OF  THE  GRAY  CAR     309 

rescue  of  Lady  Kate,  Harvard  never  once  doubted ; 
but  it  did  not  lessen  by  one  whit  or  jot  or  tittle  the 
magnitude  of  the  offense  of  the  attempt. 

They  ran  into  Stamford  and  through  it,  pausing 
for  a  moment  only  to  make  inquiries  for  a  gray 
roadster  that  had  preceded  them. 

"Yes,"  a  uniformed  policeman  told  them,  "a  gray 
car,  with  a  woman  in  the  rumble  seat  and  another 
beside  the  driver  and  a  second  man  seated  on  the 
floor  of  the  car,  passed  through  twenty  minutes  ago." 

The  next  definite  information  was  received  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  passing  through  Rye.  The  gray  car, 
again  as  graphically  described,  had  gone  past  not 
more  than  fifteen  minutes  ahead  of  them.  They 
fairly  flew  through  Harrison  and  on  into  the  border 
of  Mamaroneck  and  down  the  hill  which  dips  to- 
ward the  railway  station  of  the  latter  place,  and 
stopped  at  the  corner  where  the  road  branches  if  one 
wishes  to  take  the  short  cut  to  Orient  Point. 

A  group  had  collected  there.  A  disabled  taxicab, 
with  one  tire  exploded  and  the  wheel  of  it  twisted 
out  of  shape,  made  the  central  figure  of  the  gath- 
ering, and  beside  it  a  young  woman  was  talking 
excitedly  while  she  pointed  straight  ahead  toward 
the  station.  Harvard  and  Rushton  leaped  from 
their  car  at  the  same  instant,  for  the  young  woman 
was  Betty  Keese,  and  the  man  she  addressed  in 
such  evident  excitement  was  Anderson  Van  Cleve. 

Close  beside  him  Banta  stood  listening.  Near 
by,  white  and  frightened,  was  another  man,  cring- 
ing and  cowering  in  the  grasp  of  a  big  Mamaroneck 
policeman.  The  wrecked  taxi  was  the  one  in  which 


Van  Cleve  and  Banta  had  been  returning  to  the  city. 

Harvard,  with  the  strength  of  a  dozen  men,  threw 
the  members  of  that  group  aside  like  straws  and 
confronted  the  three  persons  he  had  recognized. 

"Where  is  the  gray  car?  Where  is  Katherine?" 
he  demanded. 

"There!  They  went  straight  on!"  Betty  cried 
out  excitedly.  "The  taxi  turned  in  front  of  us 
when  we  were  trying  to  pass  it  That  man,  Ben's 
chauffeur,  was  thrown  off.  I  jumped.  I  was  in 
the  rumble.  I  saw  Katherine  try  to  jump  out,  but 
Ben  held  her  back." 

Harvard  and  Rushton  turned  and  leaped  into 
Harvard's  car  again.  Clancy  picked  up  Betty  in 
his  arms  and  put  her  into  it  after  them.  Then  he 
clung  to  the  door  and  clambered  in  after  the  car 
had  started  ahead.  Van  Cleve  shouted  after  them : 

"We'll  get  another  car  and  follow."  Banta  called 
out :  "Try  the  White  Plains  road !" 

"Keep  straight  ahead,  Julius,"  Rushton  ordered. 
"That  cop  back  there  told  me  that  the  gray  car 
was  limping.  I  think  they've  got  a  puncture." 

"Tell  me  of  Katherine,"  Harvard  demanded  of 
Betty  in  a  tone  that  was  ominous  in  its  enforced 
gentleness. 

"She  is  not  hurt  at  all,  Mr.  Harvard!"  Betty 
cried  out  in  reply.  "Benton  is  trying  to  carry  her 
off,  away  from  you.  He  told  me  last  Monday  that 
he  intended  to  do  it.  He  is  mad,  crazy,  beside 
himself — and  desperate. 

"I  should  have  told  you.    I  should " 

"Yes,  you  should  have  told  me,"  Harvard  replied. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  NIGHT  WIND?S  PROMISE 

The  gray  car  had  been  limping,  as  the  officer  told 
Rushton.  Moreover,  Keese  discovered  soon  after 
he  ran  into  the  taxi  that  the  task  of  driving  it  and 
at  the  same  time  keeping  a  tight  grasp  upon  Kath- 
erine's  arm,  so  that  she  would  not  jump,  was  an  ex- 
tremely difficult  one.  For  Katherine  had  made  the 
attempt,  as  Betty  said;  and  she  repeated  it  before 
they  had  gone  a  dozen  rods  farther.  When  they 
flew  past  the  railway  station  she  tried  it  again,  and 
Keese,  in  holding  her,  lost  his  control  of  the  steer- 
ing-wheel for  the  fraction  of  an  instant,  so  that  they 
swerved  dangerously  near  to  a  big  limousine  they 
were  passing,  and  she  called  out,  too,  to  several  men 
who  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  station  as  they 
passed. 

They  flew  across  the  main  street  of  Mamaroneck, 
narrowly  missing  a  passing  trolley  car,  and  on  again 
past  the  poor  huts  of  houses  that  were  beyond  it, 
and  then  into  the  darker  road  again.  But  one  of 
the  tires  had  collapsed,  and  Keese  was  wise  enough 
to  know  that  the  time  would  be  short  after  that 
before  he  was  overtaken.  He  kept  on  as  he  was 
going  for  another  half-mile,  then  turned  into  the 
road  that  leads  toward  the  Sound;  and  there  pres- 
ently his  headlights  picked  up  an  open  gateway 
311 


312      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

into  a  lane  beside  an  old  and  deserted  brown  frame 
house  that  was  doorless  and  windowless  and  but 
little  better  than  a  ruin.  Keese  guided  the  gray  car 
into  that  lane. 

It  was  a  desperate  chance ;  but  there  was  no  other 
way,  and  there  was  the  possibility  that  the  pursuing 
car  might  pass  on.  He  guided  the  roadster  with 
difficulty,  for  it  was  necessary  still  to  cling  to  his 
captive.  But  he  succeeded  in  taking  it  around  be- 
hind the  house,  nevertheless;  and  there  he  came 
to  a  stop. 

Katherine  again  tried  to  leap  out,  but  he  caught 
her  and  held  her.  She  called  aloud  with  all  her 
voice-power,  and  he  clapped  one  hand  over  her  lips 
and  held  it  there.  Then  she  raised  her  right  hand 
and,  with  the  palm  open,  struck  him  squarely  in  the 
face.  The  blow  maddened  him — who  was  already 
mad.  He  seized  her,  snarling  an  imprecation  that 
even  he  would  not  have  used  in  her  presence  had 
he  not  been  utterly  crazed.  He  lifted  her  from  the 
car.  He  crushed  her  against  him  so  that  she  could 
not  struggle.  He  ran  with  her  up  the  rickety  steps  of 
the  still  more  unsteady  back  stoop  of  the  old  house. 

Katherine  tried  to  struggle  out  of  his  grasp,  but 
he  held  her  firmly.  But  she  could,  and  she  did,  call 
out  for  help — and  he  stopped  at  the  top  of  the  steps, 
turning  his  face  to  hers,  with  a  savage  gleam  in  his 
eyes  and  a  snarling  expression  of  rage  upon  his  lips. 
He  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  strike  her,  to  compel  her 
silence.  Perhaps  he  intended  it  only  as  a  threat; 
perhaps  he  did  intend  to  deliver  the  blow.  But  that 
will  never  be  known. 


THE  NIGHT  WIND'S  PROMISE       313 

The  shaky,  uncertain  footing  of  the  old  stoop 
gave  way  beneath  them,  incapable  as  it  was  of  sup- 
porting their  double  weight.  A  crash,  a  rending  of 
boards,  a  cloud  of  pungent  dust  from  rotting  wood, 
assailed  them  as  they  fell  through  the  ruin  of  the 
old  stoop.  It  was  a  short  fall,  and  Katherine  was 
uppermost  when  they  struck,  and  the  litter  of 
debris  that  cluttered  down  upon  them  spared  her, 
mercifully. 

Partly  dazed,  but  still  intent  upon  making  her 
escape  from  the  madman — and  by  then  she  was 
wholly  convinced  that  he  was  indeed  mad — she 
sprang  up  and  away  from  him  instantly,  nor 
turned  to  look  backward  as  she  sped  away  across 
the  broken  boards  and  through  the  opening  where 
the  short  flight  of  steps  had  been  but  a  moment 
before.  Convinced  that  Keese  would  pursue  her, 
she  ran  on  swiftly  down  the  lane  to  the  ruined  gate, 
past  it  into  the  roadway — and  straight  into  the 
blinding  glare  of  an  approaching  car. 

Then  things  happened  swiftly.  There  was  a 
grinding  and  crunching  of  brakes.  Three  men  and 
a  woman  sprang  from  the  car  and  ran  toward 
her.  She  straightened  and  stood  white  and  pale,  but 
smiling  bravely  notwithstanding.  And  then  Bing- 
ham  Harvard's  arms  encircled  her,  and  held  her, 
and  nearly  crushed  her. 

Rushton  waited  to  see  only  that  much;  then  he 
ran  on  past  them,  toward  the  lane  and  into  it,  flash- 
ing his  light  ahead  of  him  as  he  ran. 

Harvard  slowly  released  his  wife  from  that  close 
embrace.  Then  he  lifted  her  as  if  she  had  been  a 


314      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

feather  and  carried  her  to  the  car.  He  put  her  in- 
side and  turned  away,  but  Katherine  reached  out  a 
detaining  hand  and  grasped  his  sleeve. 

"Wait,  Bingham,"  she  said  softly.  "Where  are 
you  going?" 

"There,"  he  replied  with  a  quick  jerk  of  his 
head.  "After  him." 

"Please  don't,"  she  pleaded. 

"I  must,"  he  said.    "I  must." 

"Then  promise  me — promise  me,  dear,  that  you 
will  control  yourself;  that  you  will  not  hurt  him. 
Promise  me,  dear." 

"I  cannot,"  he  said. 

"I  am  not  hurt,  Bingham.  I  am  safe.  I  am  no 
worse  for  this  experience.  And,  dear,  he  is  Betty's 
brother — and  he  is  mad,  quite  mad.  Promise  me, 
dear." 

Harvard  was  silent  an  instant,  struggling  might- 
ily with  himself.  Then  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of 
his  wife,  tried  to  smile,  and  replied  simply: 

"I  promise,  sweetheart." 


CHAPTER  XLII 

SUPPLYING  THE   PROOFS 

Harvard  found  Rushton  standing  with  folded 
arms  in  the  midst  of  the  ruin  of  the  old  stoop,  look- 
ing down  upon  a  prostrate  and  motionless  figure  of 
a  man  that  had  been  Benton  Keese.  For  Benton 
Keese,  otherwise  Holbrook  Chilton,  was  dead  when 
Rushton  got  to  him.  He  had  been  dead  when 
Katherine  sprang  away  from  him  and  fled  down 
the  lane  toward  the  road.  Death  had  followed  in- 
stantly upon  his  fall.  A  large  and  rusted  wire  nail 
with  the  point  of  it  uppermost,  part  and  parcel 
with  the  ruin  he  had  wrought,  fate  fully  awaited 
him  when  he  fell  upon  his  back  beneath  Katherine, 
whom  he  had  still  been  holding  tightly  clasped  in  his 
arms.  And  by  the  force  of  his  own  weight,  and 
hers,  it  had  gone  into  his  head  almost  its  entire 
length,  just  at  the  base  of  the  skull.  The  conse- 
quence had  been  instantaneous. 

Between  them,  Harvard  and  Rushton  lifted  the 
still  form  and  bore  it  outside;  and  for  a  moment 
after  that  Harvard  stood  quite  still  beside  all  that 
remained  of  the  once  handsome,  if  erring,  Benton 
Keese.  Rushton  came  up  beside  him  and  touched 
him  on  the  arm. 

"Come  away,"  he  said  gently.  "We  must  tell  the 
others,  Mr.  Harvard." 

315 


816      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

"Shall  I  tell  you  of  what  I  was  thinking  just 
then,  Rushton?"  Harvard  asked  soberly. 

"Yes,  please." 

"I  was  thanking  God,  in  my  heart,  that  /  didn't 
do  that;  for,  as  He  has  judged  him,  and  will  one  day 
judge  me,  I  would  have  done  it — but  for  my  prom- 
ise to  my  wife.  And,  God  only  knows,  I  might  not 
have  had  the  strength  to  keep  that  promise." 

"Well,"  Rushton  muttered  as  he  turned  away, 
"if  you  had  done  it,  Mr.  Harvard,  I'd  have  been 
willin'  to  help,  some." 

"Wait,"  Harvard  ordered  suddenly.  "I  had  for- 
gotten Betty.  Stay  here,  Rushton.  /  will  tell  his 
sister.  She  must  not  see " 

He  stopped  as  he  was  turning.  Betty,  with  Tom 
Clancy  beside  her,  was  there.  She  did  not  speak. 
She  uttered  no  sound  as  she  went  forward  and 
bent  over  the  still  form  of  her  brother.  But,  after 
a  moment,  she  got  down  upon  her  knees  beside 
him  and  closed  down  his  eyelids.  Then  she  kissed 
the  smooth,  wide  forehead;  and  then  she  rose  up 
and  turned  about — and  went  straight  into  the  out- 
stretched arms  of  Tom  Clancy.  And  the  sobs  that 
she  could  no  longer  control  were  muffled  and  pres- 
ently stilled  in  his  embrace. 

Mr.  Van  Cleve  and  Banta  arrived  on  the  scene 
in  a  hired  car  a  few  moments  later;  and  then — but 
the  conventional  details  that  followed  need  not  be 
described. 

The  express  package  that  Rushton  had  been  ex- 
pecting did  not  arrive  until  the  middle  of  the  week 


SUPPLYING    THE    PROOFS  317 

that  followed.  It  had  been  greatly  delayed  in  tran- 
sit, and 

But  Fate  had  so  willed  that  the  contents  of  it 
should  not  be  needed.  Nevertheless,  during  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  that  followed  upon  its  receipt, 
Rodney  Rushton  made  his  appearance  at  the  Cen- 
tropolis  bank  and  passed  through  it  to  the  office 
of  the  president.  Harvard  received  him  with  a 
cordial  smile  and  handshake,  and  then  conducted 
him  into  the  directors'  room  where,  seated  around 
the  table,  were  all  of  the  members  of  that  former 
conference  that  had  been  held  there,  save  only  Lady 
Kate. 

She  was  not  present.  She  had  gone  to  Ken- 
tucky with  Betty  to  help  her,  and  to  support  her 
friend  through  the  last  sad  duties  that  could  be 
performed  for  Benton  Keese.  It  was  understood 
that  Betty  was  to  return  with  her  and  remain  with 
her  until  the  period  of  mourning  was  past  and  she 
could  put  Tom  Clancy's  ring  on  her  finger  for  all 
time. 

Inside  of  the  directors'  room  of  the  bank  behind 
closed  doors  Rushton  addressed  those  present  in 
his  characteristic  style,  after  previously  placing  upon 
the  table  before  him  some  sheets  of  paper  which 
bore  strange  and  interesting  marks  upon  them. 

"I  asked  you  to  meet  me  here  this  afternoon," 
he  said,  "because  this  case  ain't  exactly  closed  and 
put  away  in  the  archives  until  we  are  all  satisfied 
with  the  positive  proof  of  the  fact  that  Benton 
Keese  was  Holbrook  Chilton.  Likewise,  to  an- 
nounce in  this  official  manner  to  all  of  you  that 


818      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S  PROMISE 

all  of  the  dough  that  he  got  away  with  so  slick, — 
except  a  little  over  six  thousand  dollars  which  he 
spent,  has  been  recovered.  Banta  an'  me  found 
most  of  it  in  a  safe  deposit  compartment  that  he 
had  hired  as  Keese;  the  rest  of  it  was  on  his  per- 
son when  he  was  killed  and  in  his  rooms  at  the 
Mammoth.  Also  in  that  same  safe  deposit  we 
found  the  two  photographs  that  he  took  of  himself 
in  Mexico  as  Chilton  and  sent  to  Mr.  Harvard 
for  Mr.  Van  Cleve's  pictures. 

"And  now,  these."  He  bent  forward  and 
touched  the  papers  on  the  table  in  front  of  him. 
"That  evenftig  when  Keese  was  lying  dead  out 
there  this  side  of  Mamaroneck,  while  I  was  keep- 
ing watch  while  the  others  were  makin'  arrange- 
ments to  bring  him  away,  I  managed  to  take  some 
prints  of  his  fingers  and  thumbs,  unbeknown  to  the 
rest  of  the  bunch.  These,  here,  are  them. 

"And  these,  here,  are  the  ones  that  a  chap  named 
Corona  sent  to  me  from  the  City  of  Mexico.  I  have 
had  both  sets  down  at  headquarters  for  a  private 
examination  by  the  expert.  Banta  and  the  chief, 
here,  was  with  me;  and  so,  gentlemen,  I  wish  to 
state  to  you  that  the  finger  and  thumb  prints  of 
Chilton,  found  in  Mexico,  and  the  ones  I  made  of 
Benton  Keese  a  few  moments  after  he  was  killed, 
are  of  the  same  man,  and  there  isn't  any  doubt  of  it. 
And — that  is  about  all,  I  guess." 

After  the  others  had  gone  from  the  bank,  Rush- 
ton  lingered  behind  with  the  man  he  had  learned 
to  love  with  all  the  intensity  with  which  he  had 


SUPPLYING   THE   PROOFS  319 

once  hated  him;  and  Harvard,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  nodded  his  head 
and  said : 

"You  need  not  ask  the  question  that  is  on  your 
mind,  Rushton.  I  know  what  it  is,  and  I  will  reply 
to  it.  You  have  made  good." 

"That's  what  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  all  right,  all 
right,"  Rushton  replied  with  feeling.  "I  can't  tell 
you  how  much  I  thank " 

"Don't  try,  Rushton.  You  do  tell  me,  in  acts  that 
are  better  than  words,  a  hundred  times  a  day — 
ever  since  you  have  been  my  confidential  man  here 
in  the  "bank.  But  that  leads  me  to  something  that 
I  want  to  say,  Rushton." 

"Well,  sir?" 

"There  are  better  things  for  you  than  remaining 
here  with  me  on  a  salary  and  being  confined  to  the 
mere  work  of  this  bank.  You  should  branch  out, 
as  Redhead  did  once.  And  you  could  still  do  this 
work  for  me." 

"I  have  thought  that  I  would  like  to  do  that,  Mr. 
Harvard;  but,  you  see "  he  hesitated. 

"Well?    What  is  it?" 

"I'm  still  a  convict — on  parole." 

"Are  you?  Take  a  look  at  this  paper  and  see  if 
you  are";  and  Harvard  took  a  document  from 
one  of  his  pockets  and  gave  it  to  Rushton.  The 
latter  accepted  it,  looked  upon  it,  and  his  eyes 
bulged.  Then  tears  of  joy  rushed  unbidden  into 
them. 

"God!"  he  said,  then.    "Thank  God!    And  you! 


320      THE   NIGHT    WIND'S   PROMISE 

Oh,  I  am  the  happiest  guy   that  ever  breathed! 

I'm— I'm " 

Words  failed  him.  He  dropped  upon  a  chair  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Harvard  turned,  to 
his  desk  and  busied  himself  with  some  papers.  It 
was  a  full  pardon,  signed  by  the  governor  of  the 
state,  that  Bingham  Harvard,  once  alias  "The  Night 
Wind,"  had  given  to  former  Lieutenant  Rodney 
Rushton. 

Just  one  word  more. 

Betty  Keese  was  married  to  Tom  Clancy  at  the 
end  of  the  year.  And  that  fact,  so  far  as  this 
story  is  concerned,  brings  us  to 


THE  END 


A     000129579     9 


